


This Is SO Not Going To Happen

by Caffiend



Series: Jaguar Villains - Thomas and Maura [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, Crimson Peak (2015) RPF, Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, Only Lovers Left Alive (2013) RPF, The Night Manager (TV) RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Betrayal, Courage, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Love, Murder, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Spy - Freeform, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Undercover, captive rescue, collaring, international sex trafficking ring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiend/pseuds/Caffiend
Summary: In which we find the continuing adventures of Thomas and Maura. When their friend O'Connell comes to them for help in rescuing his niece- kidnapped by a notorious human sex trafficking ring- the lovers  come out of hiding to travel the globe to save the girl.It does help to read "Not Going To Happen" and "Peaches in the Luxe Lounge" so you have the back story. Thank you as always for reading!





	1. “DO THE TWO OF YE’ EVER DO ANYTHING BUT SHAG?”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misreall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maura and Thomas are blissfully happy. For once.

“Falling behind, darling.” The long legs of Thomas Pine were eating up the sand path leading to their beach house, and his crisp reminder was ignored by Maura. She was busy gazing at his perfect ass in those black running shorts. They might be in love, but they were still competitive. Thus, the approach to the house at the end of the morning run was usually a rather aggressive competition to reach the stone stairs first. But for Maura Morrighann MacLaren, she was perfectly happy letting Thomas take the lead this morning. She still felt that pleasant soreness inside that reminded her of last night’s encounter on the lounge by their swimming pool...followed by _in_ the swimming pool...and then in their shower, which was worth any amount of burn and pull of her over-exercised nether regions this morning. “Darling?” Thomas turned in time to catch Maura still staring shamelessly at his sculpted behind with a dreamy smile on her face. Blushing at his knowing grin, the girl raised her chin and sprinted forward, nearly clipping him in a treacherous move that gave her the lead to the first stair.

“I win!” Maura smiled innocently, aware that the glower Thomas was giving her might translate into some kind of payment for her sheer cheek later on. Bounding up the stairs after her, he ran one long finger under the platinum choker around her neck, pulling on it to draw her closer.

“Really…” he purred. Maura knew that single word could entail a great number of potentially alarming consequences for her, but before he could pull her in for a kiss, an irritated growl from the open doors to the terrace stopped them.

“JAYSUS, MARY AN’ JOSEPH!” The irritable Irish bellow of their dear friend (and explosives expert) O’Connell stopped them short. “DO THE TWO OF YE’ EVER DO ANYTHING BUT SHAG?” Years of detonating every manner of explosives on every continent on the globe left the Irishman with dreadful hearing but hugely healthy vocal cords.

“O’Connell!” cried Maura, heading over to receive a rib-cracking hug from their former roommate.

“What a surprise,” grinned Thomas, coming in for a series of manly handshake-back slapping combinations that never failed to puzzle the girl. “Why didn’t you call us, you loud Irish bastard? I could have fetched you from the airport.”

The ruddy face of their closest friend suddenly dropped into a expression of unmistakable grief. “I NEED THE- eh, I need the two of yeh. I need YOUR HELP.”

 

Sitting around the big oak harvest table in the kitchen, O’Connell absently peeled the label from his bottle of beer as he talked. After their wildly lucrative- but nearly fatal- adventures in Algeria, the explosives expert had fled with them to New Zealand, along with Mr. Saunoun. The two men saved them from a rather grisly finish after Thomas and Maura managed to blow up the remaining two-thirds of Jaguar Holdings- and retreated badly injured to the hotel where the four friends reconnected. Their life together in New Zealand in a gigantic beach home overlooking Karehare Beach was the perfect way to recover their strength and lay low as the fallout from dismantling one of the largest crime syndicates in Europe settled. But Thomas and Maura’s rekindling of their passionate relationship eventually drove O’Connell back to Ireland and Mr. Saunoun to his home in Mozambique- with the promise to return if they were ever needed. But this time, it seemed that Thomas and Maura were needed to come to the giant Irishman’s rescue.

Abruptly pushing his phone towards them, the Irishman pointed a finger to the picture on the screen. “IT’S MY- it’s my niece. Siobhan.” The girl was pretty. Maura’s smile spread as she picked the phone up. The girl’s hair was a glorious red, like her uncle’s, with warm blue eyes and a shy smile as she held some kind of trophy.

“She’s beautiful,” ventured Maura, “how old is she?”

“Siobhan is-” the big man’s voice broke, but he continued. “She’s 15. An’ she’s been kidnapped.”

It took 5 more beers and a box of tissues to get the full story from their friend, and at the finish, but Maura and Thomas were sickened. Rubbing her forehead, the girl tried to think. Even as an operative for the UN Intelligence Task Force, she’d never had to deal with the horror of human sex trafficking. And from everything O’Connell told them, it was the fetid trap that held his niece now.

Thomas was pale, but far more composed than the other two. “How long has she been missing, brother?”

“THREE DAYS. EVERYTHING I TRIED- eh, all my sources ran cold as soon as I mentioned the Paukove Mreže syndicate.”

“Tell us what you know,” asked Maura, already pulling her laptop open and typing in a complicated code that entered the Dark Web.

Running his hands through a wild thatch of red hair, O’Connell sighed,

“THEY TOOK HER FROM THE LACROSSE FIELD AT SCHOOL- SHE’D STAYED LATE- ah! Godammit! She was staying late to practice- an’...” the big man’s voice broke, and Maura put a hand over his clenched fist as they waited for him to be able to continue. “Two of the other girls on her team were comin’ out of the locker rooms an’ saw the men dragging her into a car. My Siobhan was fighting, they said. Kicking an’ screaming her lungs out.”

Thomas leaned in to meet O’Connell’s gaze. “A brave girl, a strong one, brother. That is crucial, you know that.”

Maura was typing rapidly, her pale green eyes racing back and forth over the text on the screen. “How did you learn about the Paukove Mreže?”

Running a hand over his streaming eyes, the Irishman tried to concentrate. “I got the footage from the school’s security cameras. One of tha’ men’s image came up on the International Terrorist database. I tracked him to the-” O’Connell’s voice broke, but he continued, “TO THE AMNESTY- the Amnesty International listing of the worst syndicates for-” Tears sprang to Maura’s eyes, watching the anguish of their friend. “-the worst syndicates for human sex trafficking.”

Thomas used his most firm and authoritative voice, the one that usually melted Maura into a pile of mush. “O’Connell. We will find her. You know this. We _will_ find her and you will bring her home to her family.” The red face of their friend was streaming tears as he tried to nod, but Thomas was implacable. “Say it, brother. Say we _will_ bring Siobhan home.”

“Aye,” O’Connell finally managed. “We’ll bring my lass home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Dark Web" IS a thing. It's the (relatively) inaccessible part of the Internet that's used by the lowest of the low- pornography, sex trafficking, organized crime- there's a reason it's called the Dark Web. And fortunately, our favorite computer hacker knows how to access it.


	2. We're Going To Get Her Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas and Maura hold their noses and dive deep into the sewage of human sex trafficking. And O'Connell is roofied. For his own good, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for slipping a roofie in O'Connell's drink. And for sex. Lovely, lovely sex.

Maura stirred out of a half daze as Thomas set a mug of tea by her elbow. Bending over to look at the screen, he visibly recoiled. "Perhaps I should bring you a shot of vodka instead," he said, running a gentle hand down the length of her hair. Leaning into the caress, she gratefully smiled for a moment.

"Thank you," Maura sighed, "this is perhaps the only moment I haven't wanted to scream or hurl all evening." Thomas ran his long fingers through her curls, repeatedly, soothingly, nearly petting the girl like a cat, knowing it comforted her after nightmares. Leaning her head against his abdomen, the girl tried to make all the ugliness she'd witnessed in her research drain away. "Where's O'Connell?" She asked, suddenly realizing the home had been bellow-free for a couple of hours.

"I got him drunk and put him to bed," Thomas answered blandly. "The man hasn't slept in 72 hours."

Leaning back at staring up at him suspiciously, Maura said, "You got him drunk? And he fell _asleep_? This is O'Connell we're talking about. The man has the alcohol tolerance of an entire rugby team."

Shrugging, Thomas took a sip of her tea. "I might have added a little something..."

"You ROOFIED O'Connell?" Maura was aghast. "You'll be the one dealing with that revenge-based hangover when he wakes up."

His elegant brow raised, "Now, now, pet..." That blasted, compelling, beautiful voice of his had a tone of warning. "Don't think you're getting away with that utter sass this morning. Do you really want to add to your paddling?" Paddling? 'Oh, bloody HELL,' Maura thought miserably. The punishment was not only undignified, it hurt more than just about anything else her diabolical Sir could do to her.

"I asked you a question, Pet."

The steel edge entered that resonant voice, and she hastened to answer him, "No, Sir, I would really prefer not to add to that particular correction. Were you planning to implement that...uh...immediately?"

Thomas chuckled malevolently, "No, darling. You're rather occupied now, as am I. But there _will_ be a time of my choosing where you will be writhing over my lap..." his dark head drew closer until all Maura could focus on was the brilliant azure blue of his eyes. "...hearing the sharp slap of the paddle as it strikes your luscious ass, perhaps down your thighs. If you add to your punishment..." She could feel his breath now as his broad hand slid casually around her neck. "..I will kick those little feet wider and I will paddle you right on your wet...bare...defenseless pussy and listen to you scream." The heartless creature softly kissed her neck, cheek and finally her slack lips, grinning at Maura's helpless little moan. "In fact, Pet- if I slid my fingers down to your sweet kitty, would I find it wet? Would those lips be swelling, opening like petals on a flower?" Two long fingers, roughened by years of sports and unmentionable illegal activity slid between her thighs, pushing boldly into her panties as he chuckled. "Oh, Maura-girl. This must be positively painful- so slick and warm- what kind of Daddy leaves his baby girl in such discomfort?" Maura let out some sort of abortive protest-moan-pleading squeak, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, curling it around her own, languidly exploring as his fingers did the same below. One hand flew up to grab helplessly at his shirt as Maura attempted to ground herself and attempt to form a complete sentence, but when his wrist twisted and sent those fingers up into her channel, she moaned into his mouth. She could feel those calloused fingertips slide unerringly to that little rough patch inside her- so high that she could never find it on her own. But dammit- Thomas never failed to find it, brushing against it lightly, over and over until Maura's hips were circling hopefully.

Finally lifting his lips from hers, Thomas gave her a vaguely sinister smile. "Please, Sir!" She moaned, "May I please come?"

Sliding those unfairly skilled fingers from her already tightening pussy, Thomas dropped a light kiss on her nose and whispered, "No." Making a show of licking her slick from his fingers, he strolled away, leaving an infuriated Maura to her grisly work. Shuddering at the images on the monitor, she switched windows and entered a new tracking code. "The only good thing about this filth is that it kills a lady-boner in two seconds flat," she snarled. Alternately drinking tea and dozing lightly, Maura waited for the search program she'd entered to give her some results. Jerking awake at the sound of a light chime from her computer, her eyes narrowed as she printed off the information. Maura wasn't joking, O'Connell was in a right foul moon that day as he woke just before lunch. She was blearily assembling some seafood and grilled vegetables when his vengeful roar was heard.

"GODDAMN YE' PINE! YE' TREACHEROUS BASTARD!" The infuriated Irishman stomped into the kitchen to glare at the exhausted girl.

"Don't look at me," she said, holding up her hands, forgetting that the very sharp knife in her left one might look a tad threatening. "I've been online all night."

Growling like a gigantic ginger-colored bear, O'Connell stomped over the the cabinets. "PAINKILLERS STILL KEPT- eh, where we used to?" he grumbled, accepting that he could at least think clearly again.

Maura smiled and patted his shoulder as she passed him to get him a water bottle. "The same. Not much has changed since you and Mr. Saunoun left us." Rolling his bloodshot eyes and then flinching, the Irishmen snorted. "That's certain. The two of you still SHAGGING LIKE RABBITS! It's a bloody miracle you're not toting a couple of babies in your belly by now!" Smile fading, she handed him the water and turned quickly back to the chopping block, spearing the vegetables savagely.

Red brow raised, O'Connell was about to question the sudden change when Thomas entered. "Ah, there you are. Looking much less like utter shite." His dubious compliment went unnoticed when his enraged friend nearly punched him. "Now, now- O'Connell!" Thomas moved to the other side of the big table. "Kill me now and you'll never know what we dug up last night."

The three decided to eat first, because Maura was fairly certain no one could hold down much after seeing the information she'd printed. As the men cleared the table so they could work, she gathered up all the research. Thomas poured a finger of good Scotch for fall of them, and solemnly toasted, "To Siobhan, back home safely."

"To Siobhan," they all echoed and tossed back their drinks. Maura coughed, still never accustomed to anything more robust than a good Riesling.

"Here's what we know." Passing out the files, she could see the blood drain from the Irishman's face. "Hold it back, brother. I need you here. The Paukove Mreže syndicate is run by the biggest crime family in Bosnia, the Burićs. All the usual- gambling, weapons distribution, drugs, and prostitution- vile people." She looked meaningfully at Thomas, knowing that the same could said about Jaguar Holdings. His eyes narrowed threateningly, and remembering the paddle, she hurried on. "Here's the most loathsome part. They stock resorts with underage boys and girls for the sex tourism trade- they have 10 in Asia, Eastern Europe, Africa and here ion the North Island. Please remind me darling, won't you- to blow up that resort when we have a moment after our project?"

"Down to the ground," Thomas agreed grimly. Maura tried to compose herself to make sure she could keep O'Connell calm. "The teenagers come from various backgrounds, sold by a pimp, runaways with nowhere to go, and outright kidnapping. O'Connell, this is absolutely crucial: did Siobhan have any strange encounters in the days before they took her- offers to sign with a modeling agency, a much older man asking her out- anything?"

Pulling the bottle of Scotch over, he filled the glass and drank deep before answering. "I questioned her parents, her school mates- looked at surveillance footage. Everyone said life went on as usual that week."

Frowning, she said "I think we need to go there. Perhaps her friends would be more likely to speak to me than you or her parents. I need to check her phone and computer for texts or journal entries that might tell us something."

Taking her hand and dropping a kiss on it, Thomas leaned forward. "I've already put together several different identities for travel. What I've discovered is that the teenagers are kept in holding houses for some time before they enter the "resorts," or they're sold at auction, sometimes for months until any trail runs cold. Given that your niece is a person of importance, they're going to want to keep her hidden for some time. This benefits us, O'Connell."

Raising his wet eyes, the Irishman asked, "AN' HOW THE HELL- how the hell does that help us?"

Maura smiled sadly. "Because they're not going to want to damage the merchandise, and-" she swallowed down her nausea, "beautiful girls like your niece are quite...they're quite valuable." Tears started sliding down his ruddy cheeks, and she reached out to hold his clenched hand.

Thomas put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We're going to get her back. Say it."

Nodding, O'Connell drew a deep breath. "We're getting her BACK."

 

While Thomas was ordering their flight crew to prepare the Lear jet they'd obtained after getting their 2.5 billion successfully transferred so many times that they could barely keep track of it, Maura was trying to decode some of the language used by human traffickers used online. By trying to figure out terminology, she hoped to see if they could narrow down what part of the world they'd taken Siobhan. Her best hunch was Eastern Europe, but where exactly was another story. 

"We're leaving tonight at 10, Maura-girl. Do you need help packing?" Thomas came in to drop a kiss on top of her black hair, the waist length curls drawn up into a sloppy bun.

"Well, that depends," she teased, looking up at his sly smile. "I believe the last time you 'helped' me pack, I had nothing to wear for that week in Bali but lingerie."

Thomas grinned shamelessly. "You were the best-dressed woman there, I assure you. All the guns are packed, O'Connell's insisting on boxing his own plastique explosives." Maura paled at the concept of boxes of C-4 rattling around the cargo hold of the jet. "Come, sweetness. You've been going over the same three sites now for an hour. Why don't you log off."

Rubbing her eyes, she protested, "But there's something I'm missing here, some formula that-"

Pulling her from the chair, Thomas lifted Maura into his arms and strode towards their bedroom. Starting the shower, he undressed her and seated the girl on the stone bench inside, sliding behind her easily to bracket her with his long legs. "Relax, Pet," he soothed, "Daddy will take care of you." She tried not to make her little wiggle too obvious, but he chuckled. "Ah, my baby girl needs some attention, I see." Taking his time, Thomas stroked his soapy fingers over her shoulders, down her arms and washing her stomach and then her breasts, taking care to be sure they were very, _very_ clean. Those strong hands were back in her hair, running them over her sensitive scalp and washing it. Giving her a wicked smile, Thomas knelt before her, gently lifting each leg and running the sponge along it, and then, as Maura's breath hitched, her Sir leisurely washed her already wet pussy, playing with her slippery lips and rolling her clit between thumb and forefinger like a little marble. Leaning her head back against the tile wall with a thud, the girl tried to control herself. She knew he wouldn't let her come. Not yet. After rinsing her everywhere with their hand held shower head, Thomas cruelly let the warm water pulse between her legs as Maura gasped, sliding her hands into his wet curls. She let out a shamefully loud moan when his warm mouth clamped down on her pussy, long hard kisses and luxurious strokes of his tongue like a cat.

"Please," Maura moaned, eyes closed, " _please_ Sir! May I please come?" 

Shaking his head so his nose and stubbled chin rubbed against her sensitive flesh, Thomas murmured, "Not yet, baby girl. You're not nearly ready." 

Gasping, she tried to control her breathing, trying to ignore the feeling of his whiskered chin on her mound. With a groan, he rapidly picked her up again and took her to their bed, dropping the girl face down and yanking up her hips. "Remember," he warned dangerously, "you _will not_ come until I give you leave." With that, Maura cried out as his long, wonderfully hard cock slid into her, working his way up her channel with deeper and deeper thrusts. She could fell the soft flesh of her ass banging into his lean pelvis, the decadent slap of his balls against her. Suddenly leaning over her, caging her between long legs and arms, Thomas said, "Who do you belong to, baby girl?"

"You," she moaned, "I belong to you, Daddy. Ah! God! You're so deep- mmmm..."

Slipping a finger under her platinum choker, Thomas pulled her up against him, her back flush with his hard chest. Keeping her in place with a hand on her hip, his other wandered over her breasts, toying and pinching the nipples. "What do you want, sweet Pet?" His voice was deep, guttural and it sent a fresh surge of wetness through Maura's pussy. 

"May I come, dear Sir? Please let me come all over your lovely, hard cock?" His thrusts were faster, harder, but poor Maura knew she was ready to topple over the edge into a blistering orgasm- which would result in an equally blistering spanking if done without permission. Lifting her arms to lace them behind his head, she purred, "And then I'll lick you clean, Daddy, lick all our juices off your thick, yummy cock."

With a growl, Thomas began coming inside her, managing to grit out "Fuck! You sly little- Ah- you may come baby girl, come all over Daddy now." And with a wail of relief and near pain from her long-held finish, Maura did just that.

 

 

 


	3. The Silk Slipper? What The Hell Kind Of Name Is THAT?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maura gains employment and Thomas gains an ulcer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beloved misreall has begun the third section of her story arc for "If You're Going Through Hel..." You can find it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8591122 It's utterly beautiful. And kind of dirty. In the best, possible way.

Unfortunately, O'Connell was correct: Siobhan's grieving parents couldn't offer amy more information about what seemed to be a completely random act. The girl's friends were equally tearful and baffled.

"If Siobhan was seeing someone," Maura asked softly, "well, it wouldn't be the first time a girl's met up with a fella in private. Not that I _ever_ did such a thing, I assure you." She winked at Mollie, Siobhan's best friend as they circled the rugby field at the girls' school. The girl chuckled in a watery fashion, wiping her red nose on her sweater.

"I don't understand it," Mollie admitted, "she's my Cara is Fearr. Surely she woulda told me if there was someone. And snatching Siobhan like that- in the broad daylight! That's no buachaill- that's a crazy person."

Maura sighed as she gently steered the girl back to the warm school. "I don't know either, ceann daor. But we will find her. We _will."_

Back at the girl's house, she quietly nudged Thomas and O'Connell to keep her parents busy. She needed to run a trace through Siobhan's electronics, and she didn't want an anxious mum fearing the worst if Maura found something. It took less than 10 minutes for her program to chirp in a hopeful fashion. Scrolling through Siobhan's laptop and iphone, her green eyes narrowed.

"Gotcha, you filthy bastard."

 

"Whoever was luring Siobhan told her to erase her history," Maura said, the three of them back in the small inn where they'd taken refuge. "But they were careless. There's still digital fingerprints all over her laptop, and I found these pictures on her phone." Both men leaned forward to take the paper copy of the download, looking at an unassuming-looking young man with dark hair and a nice smile. "I know this is the swine who tried to lure her, because they Facetimed, and you can't fake that. I enlarged the photo- take a look at the background."

Thomas nodded. "Ah, Central Park in New York City, the north end, I believe."

"A star for my brightest pupil," Maura smiled, leaning down for an appreciative kiss.

O'Connell rolled his eyes, "Willya GET ON WITH- ah, it! Stop your snogging for five minutes!"

Maura picked up the other download from Siobhan's laptop. "I managed to trace the IP address. They were good, this ran through six different portals before landing back here." Pointing to a map of New York City, she hesitated for a moment before adding, "The Silk Slipper." Rolling her eyes, Maura snorted, "Why must strip clubs have such utterly stupid names? In any case, it's one of the most expensive, exclusive 'Gentleman's Clubs' in New York- the membership is $50,000 a year, and one has to be sponsored by a current member. It's membership list is riddled with organized crime lords, Wall Street bankers and the like. It is also owned by a holding company that traces back to the Paukove Mreže syndicate. This is ground zero."

"You- you're not saying my Siobhan IS IN A GODDAMN STRIP CLUB-" O'Connell was nearly purple with rage and fear, and Maura leaned forward quickly to take his hand.

"O'Connell! I don't think she's there. But she could be in a holding house nearby- the club is too public for a 15 year old kidnapped Irish girl." Maura looked over at Thomas, who was watching her, his teeth clenched so tightly a muscle in his jaw flexed.

"No." He said coldly, leaning back to regard her.

Maura shook her head, "No, what? I don't-"

"You're NOT getting a job as a peeler at that club, Maura. This will not happen. We shall find another way." Thomas was using his ice-cold Corporation voice, the one that used to make Maura certain she was about to be shot.

O'Connell was looking blankly back and forth, like he was at a tennis match. "WHY WOULD MAURA- ah, yes. No, Irish. That's a terrible idea."

Staring at her Sir, the girl watched his eyes frost over into a polar blue. Deliberately sliding her finger back and forth under her platinum choker, she smiled lovingly. "I shall apply for a waitress or bartender position. I assure you, I have less desire to dance in 5 inch heels than you do for me to work there. But until we have more information, this is the best option we have. O'Connell's too noticeable as Siobhan's uncle and you're- well, you're too perfect to be anything but a client. Which I would really, really despise." Thomas' eyes were clearing back to a calmer cobalt, and she smiled hopefully. "I know you'll protect me, uaim Ba. I am in no danger."

Those beautiful eyes narrowed, and Thomas broke into a chuckle. "You're humoring me, darling. You could take both of us without breaking a sweat." Sobering, he agreed reluctantly, "It is the best option we have- at the moment," he emphasized ominously, "this will be an extremely brief employment." Maura smiled and put her lips up for another kiss as O'Connell groaned theatrically.

 

  
'How does one dress slutty enough without dressing too slutty?' Maura pondered bitterly while trying to poke through her hastily packed luggage. Fortunately, thanks to Thomas and his delight in seeing her in next to nothing, there was a black mini-dress that would suit. "I see I must thank you for packing for me after all, Thomas." she teased as she tried to wiggle into the dress, much to his enjoyment.

  
Eyeing her undulating hips, he purred, "So very delighted to be of assistance, darling."

  
Maura froze. "You're staring at my arse right now, aren't you?"

  
"Yes, I am," he agreed pleasantly, "and a more arousing sight I can't imagine." Standing up, Thomas moved over behind her, slipping the straps up over her shoulders and smoothing down the back. Gently pulling her long hair out and free from the clinging outfit, he ran his fingers through her curls, arranging them into some kind of order. Maura shivered as she watched his eyes reflected in the mirror before them, rapidly turning azure as he looked down into her cleavage. "This dress does brilliant things for your sweet breasts, beautiful girl. I might have to buy you another like it, since I'll be burning this dress when you return from the-" Here Thomas visibly shuddered, "-the Silk Slipper." Maura giggled, but the sound died off as his big hand slid over her shoulder and down to cup a breast. Pulling the neckline even lower, Thomas played with one rapidly stiffening nipple, then the other, circling them with feather-light touches. Leaning her head back against his shoulder, Maura's eyes dropped closed, only to startle open again when when he harshly squeezed the soft globe he'd been fondling. "Keep your eyes open, little girl."

That deep, resonant voice was back, with an edge of a growl that always made Maura pay instant and complete attention.  
"Thomas, I really should go, I don't- Oh, god that feels so good..." Her protest died off as his other hand slid down her stomach to gently hitch up the hem past her hipbones, then sliding one rough finger into her panties, then another.

  
"Hush, baby girl, since when do you disobey your daddy?" His voice was sin, Maura thought despairingly, sin and power and dripping with lust. It made her boneless, it made her pussy begin to moisten hopefully every time. She could feel his breath, warm against her neck as those skilled, calloused digits slid between her folds, idly slicking up after a detour up inside her. They ran back and forth over the sensitive furrow between her clitoris and channel, tickling and teasing her. Gently peeling back the flesh cover to her clit, Thomas began tapping the sensitive bud. Grinning against her ear as Maura gave out a very unladylike moan, he murmured, "And who does this pretty pussy belong to? Hmmm?"

  
"You, of course," she gasped, "you, Daddy!" As her knees began to shake, she felt his arm slide tightly around her waist, holding her up as his slick fingers dipped back inside her, higher this time to find that spot that no one else could, the spot that Maura doubted ever existed until Thomas. The spot, in fact that he once forced her to rub as well, coming so hard that she soaked her dress and his shirt sleeve.

  
His dark chuckle made her clutch at his broad shoulder behind her. "I know what you're thinking, just by that blush, little girl." The fingers moved a bit faster inside her, carefully avoiding all her most sensitive bits. "You're thinking of Algiers. Of how I taught you to play with this oh, so very sweet cunt." Thomas chuckled again at Maura's increasingly desperate whimper. "How we slid our fingers inside you together, rubbing and rubbing against your clenching walls. You came once." He squeezed her breast and stilled. "Twice." His devilish fingers scissored inside her. "And then, a third. And such a lovely, delightful gush of sweetness, wasn't it, baby girl? You gave your Daddy such a delicious gift."

  
Maura was arching against his tight hold, on tiptoes as if she'd reach her finish by reaching for it. "Oh, Sir- please- I'm so close!"

  
"Are you, baby girl? Are you so close you can feel this lovely pussy tighten against my fingers?" Thomas was literally purring at the pleasure of her tight, anxious center, how his sweet pet arched against his hand.

  
"Yes! Please?" The girl was moaning, rubbing against his suddenly motionless hand.

  
"Good." The single word felt like cold water on Maura's impending orgasm, and she groaned as the horrid, diabolical and cruel beast she was in love with pulled his fingers out and away from her slippery, heated lips.

  
"Sirrrrr..." She knew she was whining, she did, but Maura was nearly in tears with desperation.

  
"No whining, baby girl," his voice was veering towards cold, and Thomas pulled her skirt down over her shaking thighs. "Whiney little girls get spankings, don't they?"

  
Biting her lip, Maura managed to utter a barely-sulky "Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry."

  
"Good girl," Satan himself said, patting her engorged clit to just the edge of painful. "Now go finish getting ready. And don't change those soaking panties." Before she walked out the door, he leaned over Maura, arranging those inky black curls over her shoulder and pulling down the neck of her dress. Looking up at him, she watched as he leaned down to place a kiss on the swell of her breast, just next to the nipple he'd recently taunted. Maura let out a squeal as the kiss turned into a hard suck, and then a nip from those white teeth of his. Pulling back to admire the purplish bruise, Thomas tugged her neckline back up and smoothed the dress. Maura's full lips twisted. Damn that man. He'd marked her, just under the scoop of her black dress so it wouldn't be seen.

  
Thomas insisted on calling a car to take her to the club, then paced through the loft they'd rented, suddenly furious with himself for allowing this- this ridiculous undercover prank. Given, at Jaguar Holdings he'd sent out dozens of people into danger without a thought. But this was...this was  _Maura_ \- his sweet Maura-girl. A couple of hours later, the industrial-sized door opened and the subject of his feverish thoughts stomped through. "How did it go?" He asked, brows drawn in concern.

  
Maura sighed, looking up at him with a forced expression of good cheer. "Well, I am now a proud employee of the Silk Slipper," she uttered sarcastically.

  
Those same elegant brows arched upwards suspiciously. "And?" Thomas drawled.

  
"Um, it seems the club was quite staffed to the gills with bartenders and waitresses," she sighed. "And, ah, even cleaning staff. And choreographers. In fact..." alarm bells began clanging in his dark head as she began edging subtly away. "In fact, the only employment opportunities at the Silk Slipper were in the um, the dancing section."

  
"Really..." That beautiful voice lowered ominously.

 

 

 

peeler - British slang for stripper

ceann daor - Irish for dear one

  
buachaill - boyfriend

  
Cara is Fearr - my very best friend

 


	4. Peaches & Sparkle In The Luxe Lounge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas pulls his head out of his ass and Maura is forced to kiss some.

Maura had been born the unfortunate combination of an optimist and a pragmatist. Life with her drunk, abusive parents certainly taught her the latter was more prevalent than the former- but she'd never given up on the cautious hope that things could turn out better than she'd braced for. Sadly, the Silk Slipper was exactly what she'd feared: vile and dank under the slick and luxurious surroundings that couldn't quite cover it's own filthy underbelly. She'd tried to prepare ahead for her first shift by trying out a few dances on Thomas, but somehow they never managed to make it to the end of the set before she was impaled on his thick shaft, writhing as he furiously fucked her to completion. 'He swore he wouldn't be here tonight,' Maura thought as she caked on more eye shadow, 'will he be here in disguise? Will he send O'Connell?' Somehow, picturing her highly possessive lover relaxing at home with a drink and a rugby match on TV didn't seem realistic.

"You're _not_ wearing that goddamn bikini top." Her new manager Ken ("just like the doll, babe," the manager was fond of saying, "except I'm packing all the essential equipment.") was livid when he viewed Maura's costume for her stage debut.

  
"I believe you told me- and I'm quoting you, Ken- that 'this is more of a cabaret vibe here at the Silk Slipper, and you can wear whatever you goddamn want." Maura quoted sweetly.

  
"I also told you that you'd get shit for tips if you didn't shake the titties," he growled, eyeing her saucy little schoolgirl outfit.

  
"Well, then I'm the one who'll be the one losing out on the big money, won't I?" She asked sweetly, attempting to adjust the tiny plaid skirt that seemed to be trying to crawl up her ass.

  
She needn't have worried. The applause for Maura's sizzling debut was loud and appreciative, the allure of maybe showing those pretty breasts in a private dance and her salacious stage moves making up for the non-exposure of her nipples. But then the requests for the private dances came in, and the struggle was all too apparent. Employing the same diversions she'd used with the grabbing hands of the Algerians and the vile Mr. Bender in their previous life came in handy. Trying to wipe off the smudged mascara at the end of the night, Maura sought out her new best friend- a bouncer named Marcus who'd helped "escort" an over-enthusiastic patron out the door after she was ready to crack him over the head with his own champagne bottle.

"So, you don't plan on fucking the members?" He asked, dark face expressionless.

Maura's voice came out louder and more shrill than she'd like. "What? No!" Staring at Marcus, she asked, "So, do the other girls-"

"Nearly all of them," he agreed, staring just over her left shoulder at something only he could apparently see. "But, I can have a little chat with the members before you show up, if you want."

"That- that would be lovely, thank you," she breathed, wincing internally at the overly-British styling in the New York City accent she was trying to master. "Here-" she thrust out one hand awkwardly, holding a thick roll of bills. "This is for you. Thank you for your help tonight."

  
Marcus shrugged, head still moving to a rhythm only he could hear. "That's why I'm here." Still, he took the money and shoved it into one pocket. "Lemme know when you're ready to get out of here, I'll call you a cab, Peaches."

  
The smile froze on Maura's face as he smiled blandly. "Peaches" was the hideous invention of the Cuban busboy who loudly proclaimed her ass was like "two fine peaches, man! Look at those dulces melocotones!" Ken had loudly agreed, and the cursed nickname stuck like insects to glue.  

"Thank you, Mar-cusss!" She hissed, wishing she could think of an irritating enough nickname for the smirking bouncer.

It was three hellish days of dancing at the Silk Slipper before Maura had anything of note to offer. It was a strained, tense time between her and Thomas. He would pounce on her without warning- while Maura was washing dishes, looking up something online, trying to get dressed- and suddenly she'd be on her back as his cock drove into her, Thomas whispering the dark, delirious filth in her ear that never failed to send Maura over the edge. She knew he hated what she was doing, knew that he likely felt helpless to stop it, since the club was their best option at the time. But Thomas' pride wouldn't let him express these feelings to her, so he'd be either gruff and dismissive, or wildly amorous- often within the same 10 minutes. They were both secretly grateful for the loud buffer of O'Connell, who flew back and forth twice to Europe, following up on leads from Thomas.

  
"I'm leaving," Maura called, hesitating by the front door.

  
Thomas didn't look up from the search he was running on Croatian arms dealers. "Very well."

  
O'Connell looked back and forth between them, not missing Maura shutting the door far harder than necessary. "WHAT'S ALL- eh, that about, Pine?"

  
Stabbing at the keyboard, Thomas answered curtly, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. The fact that my- my Maura is shaking her tits at drooling swine? That's she's artfully dodging the greasy paws of men I'd have shot when I was-" He stopped abruptly, running one hand down his angry face.

  
"AND THERE WE HAVE IT, eh, Thomas? No longer the TERRIFYING CRIME BOSS THAT- ah, that could kill with merely a glare?" O'Connell's huge ginger head nodded sagely.

  
"Shut the fuck up, O'Connell," snarled Pine, moving to another window and opening a new search engine.

  
"The man you were is DEAD, BROTHER, AND YOU CANNA go back," his friend continued, ignoring Pine's gritted teeth. "You may miss the power, but if you were that man again, Maura wouldn't have you."

  
"Goddamnit, O'Connell! What the bloody hell do you know? What it's like to watch someone you love in peril and not doing a thing about it? Oh...bugger it-" Thomas groaned, watching his friend's face turn beet red. "Of course you do. I'm sorry, brother."

 

Maura gloomily pulled on her "naughty policewoman" outfit to open her set with Charlie XCX. Dancing to "Break the Rules" and fantasizing about arresting all these men- with extreme prejudice- was her only highlight to her evening. She stiffened as four men strolled through the dressing room, talking as if the half-naked girls were merely mannequins as they discussed business. "Be sure we have the Stoli Elit-" the biggest man with a face like an agitated sewer rat was instructing the others, "the Veliki čovjek shot the bartender last time he ran out." Maura's eyes dropped to apply some concealer on her collarbone, over another one of Thomas's little "reminders." A $3,000 bottle of vodka? Someone important was coming in tonight, and based on the little Croatian she'd been learning, he was a boss. "Send her, and the redhead...and..." the rat's beady eyes landed on Maura, and he pointed at her, "and the new girl. He'll want the Luxe Lounge."

Smiling blankly back at the men as she applied her false lashes, the girl's mind was racing. Taking her phone into the tiny bathroom- the only place she was certain didn't have a surveillance camera- Maura rapidly typed out "Thomas, someone big is coming in tonight- Veliki čovjek? Sounds familiar. Can you activate the facial recognition program? I'll try to get a picture." Hesitating for a moment, she slowly added, "I miss you, Sir." before pushing send.

  
Nerves spiking all night, Maura swirled, dipped and flirted while waiting for the call back to the private rooms. When it came, she refreshed her makeup with the other girls and put on some dangling chandelier earrings. "Girl, those things are fucking gigantic," commented the after-mentioned redhead, "you're gonna put an eye out."

  
Maura laughed slightly harder than the joke was worth, but it was so nice to relieve the band of tension that felt like it was strangling her lungs from the inside. "Sparkle honey, that's why I don't wear them onstage. But they're my good luck earrings." One of the earrings also contained a state of the art camera, making it especially lucky, as far as Maura was concerned.

  
Standing up and straightening her glittery thong, "Sparkle" sighed. "Lucky earrings? Good, you're gonna need them." With that dour pronouncement, she left the room, leaving Maura clutching a five inch heel shoe as she digested the other stripper's warning.

"Ženke se!" Maura's eyes rolled so far back that her corneas nearly wedged into her false eyelashes. _That_ she recognized.

  
'Really?' she thought irritably, 'you're really getting your bad guy lines from the " _Triple X movie_?" Because that's not completely pathetic.' Pasting a vacuous smile on her face, she entered the room with Sparkle. The much-feared Veliki čovjek was actually quite a short man, expensively suited with eyes the color of lead. He gave the girls a cursory glance before looking back to the other two men seated on the leather couches. One was American- Maura recognized him from other visits to the club- a terrible tipper- as she recalled. He was sweating profusely and nodded frequently as the Bosnian lectured him. She managed to shoot some clear full-face shots for Thomas while fussing with her hair.

  
Finally looking up again, the smaller man irritably waved at them. "Dance!" Feeling Sparkle take her hand and squeeze it, Maura smiled and began a low, slow hip roll. "No, stupid!" Veliki čovjek barked, "Together!"

  
Feeling the redhead's hand slide up her arm, Maura had a sudden, vivid recollection of dodging that hideous, 350 pound drug dealer turned informant that she'd been forced to guard as her second assignment as an agent. 'It could be worse...' she tried to comfort herself, as the girl drew the other dancer into a falsely erotic embrace.

Showered to the point of skin scrubbed raw, Maura wearily turned the key in the lock just as the sun was rising the next morning, only to have it ripped open and Thomas sweeping her into his arms. "Darling, that was brilliant! Excellent camera work!" She tried to answer, but then his mouth was on hers, and those strong arms around her...Maura dropped her bag to the floor with a thud and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. Thomas kicked the door shut and rapidly walked her to their bedroom, hitching the girl's legs around his waist. But when he put her on the fluffy down comforter, Pine's mood changed, and he slowly undressed Maura, kissing each new inch of skin he bared. "Sweetest girl," he murmured, "I've been such a bastard, haven't I?"

  
"It's okay..." came her small voice. Leaning up, Thomas cupped her face in his big, warm hands.

  
"No, darling. It wasn't," he kissed her mouth, her chin and each closed eye, "it was not 'okay.' I've been cold and unkind. My role as your Sir is to protect you-"

  
"And you do," Maura soothed, trying to catch his lips again. "You _do_ ," she insisted, "but now we have to protect Siobhan, and O'Connell, and those girls trapped with her."

  
"My beautiful, brave girl," Thomas purred, brushing her curls off her face to look at her more closely. Maura forced herself to look back, it wasn't always easy- the intensity of those changeable blue eyes always made her feel stripped bare, as if he could see into her soul. But then as his gaze turned azure, and she smiled again. Azure was good. Very, very good, she thought dazedly as Thomas slid down her stomach, lifting one lean thigh to bend against his shoulder, opening her wide to his mouth. After coaxing her first orgasm with lips and fingers, he went back onto his knees, lifting Maura easily by her hips and sliding her slowly down his shaft.

  
"Oh! Oh, god..." she moaned, feeling the heated girth of Pine stretch her. She was grateful that he took her slowly in this position, gravity and his thrusts sending his cock deeper than usual. Sliding his palms underneath her ass, Thomas began to rock her back and forth gently, moving inside her as Maura's nails dug into his shoulders for balance. She loved feeling him this way, their chests tight together, legs wrapped around his narrow hips as Thomas stared into her eyes, kissing her and praising her.

  
"Your sweet, pink nipples are rubbing against me," he purred, licking a stripe down her neck. Tightening his grasp on her ass, Thomas gently pulled them apart, inserting one long finger to feel her slick, feeling his cock stretch her opening as he moved in and out. "So tight against me, aren't you, darling? So silky inside, like warm, wet velvet... I can feel the top of you, sweet Maura, all that helpless fluttering, the twitch of these walls." Listening to her helpless moans, Pine bit an earlobe. "You're holding back, precious. These walls are quite soundproof, I assure you. So while I'm fucking up into this perfect cunt, I want to hear you."

  
Head dropping back after an especially hard thrust, Maura squeaked, still trying to keep quiet. "How...how do you know, Sir?" She felt his chuckle rise from their joined center and travel to her sensitive nipples.

"O'Connell insisted on it," Thomas laughed, "before he would stay with us."

  
Maura burst into giggles too before breaking off into a blissful shriek as he went back on his heels, putting her head and shoulders on the bed and running his hand between her breasts to hold her there. Pistoning his hips sharply into her, Thomas admired the sight of his cock sliding inside her. "There's nothing more beautiful than you, darling, when you're about to come. I can feel this sugary pussy tighten now, you want to come, don't you, Pet?" Pausing to hear her moan in agreement, he continued in that dark, silky voice that sent goosebumps over her smooth skin. "When I put my hand flat on you, like so- I can feel my cock drive up into you. Why darling, I do believe I'm reaching your belly button. Your pretty breasts bouncing, the way you bite your lower lip. Can you feel me, little girl? I'm getting thicker, too, aren't I?" Maura's corresponding hiss of pain and pleasure mixed sent his hips snapping into her center. Sliding his palm down to grind the heel of his hand against her clitoris, Thomas growled, trying to stay controlled and failing, "Time to come now, darling. Time to get my cock all wet with that sweet slick..." Feeling her channel begin to pulse against him, he laughed breathlessly, "There's my good girl. Come. NOW!"

  
And just like the good girl she was, Maura's back arched and she wailed helplessly in her release, a luxurious, searing, shower of sparks cycling from her clit to pussy to back again. Dimly, she heard Thomas growl again as he filled her with heat, so much that his spend began slipping from her channel, soaking the sheets beneath them.

  
After Thomas cleaned them both and made Maura drink a glass of water, he wrapped them together in a cashmere throw as they watched the sun rise over New York's meatpacking district. Managing to assemble a few brain cells again, she sighed, "You were excited when I came in. Did the photos pull any names?"

  
His long fingers paused from combing through her curls. "Indeed. You were entertaining the father of the Burićs family. The president of the Paukove Mreže syndicate."

 

 

 Veliki čovjek - Bosnian for "the big man"

"Ženke se!" Bosnian for "bitches, come!" Sorry, couldn't resist.

"dulces melocotones" Spanish for "those sweet little peaches."


	5. Language Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas makes Maura dinner. Maura makes a breakthrough. And O'Connell wants to gouge his eyes out.
> 
> For my lovely Xishel and her gentle poking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misreall is back with some incendiary smut with another chapter for "The Road To Hel..." Find it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8591122/chapters/20143309

Maura looked up at Thomas sharply. "Daddy Burićs?" She gasped, "The slimy beginning of this whole mess?"

  
Scooting her more comfortably on his lap, Pine nodded. "The very one. Burićs is the bastard who introducted human sex trafficking to go with the drugs and gambling to the Paukove Mreže syndicate. He comes into town every few months- the fact that he's here now is a huge stroke of luck for us."

  
Running her fingers along the dark hair on his arm, Maura asked coldly, "Can we just kidnap him and hold him hostage for an exchange? If I can get him alone - or close to it- in one of the private rooms, I could knock him out in seconds..." Thomas smiled fondly at his Pet's caluculating expression. As erotic as she was in his bed, it was Maura's sharp mind that he found wildly arousing- that look of utter focus in those narrowed eyes. Shaking her head regretfully, she leaned back against his hard chest. "Bugger! There's only one entrance in and out from those horrid rooms. There's no way to get him past his guards. And those are interior rooms- we couldn't even blast a hole in to extract him." The girl's focus was wavering as she felt Thomas slide one warm hand up her thigh. "Um..." Maura's voice trailed off into something closer to a whine that she'd like to admit. Her treacherous center was already eagerly moistening. "Agh!" She snapped, "How do you DO that, Thomas?"

  
Idly tracing a delicate trail down her neck with the tip of his tongue, Pine murmured, "Do what, darling?"

  
"You know..." Her voice cracked, but Maura tried again. "How do you distract me so quickly? What are we going to do about Burićs? We can't lose this opportunity...um...oh! Please do that again..."

  
Thomas placed another sharp bite on the back of her neck, grinning to himself as her body jolted against him. "I have a plan. Now, be still." His girl shifted nervously against him and Thomas growled, "Don't move, little girl, I'd hate to have to punish you..." Maura squealed as the next bite was on the rise of her buttocks and tried to squirm away. Then, came the Voice. That cultured, rasping, exquisite British voice. Dark and knowing and dripping with sex. "Be a good girl for Daddy and lay on your stomach."

  
Doing as she was told, Maura immediately forgot that she hadn't slept for 24 hours and was likely not to sleep for another several still. And as her Daddy's hands slipped under her hips and lifted them, she was perfectly fine with that.

  
"YES!" Throwing her arms up with a yell of triumph, Maura forgot for a moment that she lived with two extremely alert men with immediate access to firearms.

  
"IRISH!" Roared O'Connell, racing out of his room, only to nearly collide with Thomas, who already had his gun drawn.

  
Pine pulled his gun back and with an elegant motion put the safety on. "I'd forgotten the volume of your Celtic Warrioress battle cry when you've hacked something successfully." Strolling over to her while O'Connell put a hand over his thundering heart, he leaned down to kiss her cheeck, bracing himself with one hand on the back of Maura's chair and the other on the desk. "What have you found, my angel?"

  
Absently winding her long curls into an untidy bundle on the top of her head, Maura skewered the bun with a pen to hold it steady. "Following the trail of the 6 different countries their proxy server uses to hide the New York syndicate location wasn't the problem- I separated it from the Club's server pretty quickly. The problem is they encrypt all their messages- I've had a decryption bug working for the last 48 hours- it crashed 3 times- that's how good their system is." she said with resentment and admiration warring in her expression. "However, I finally broke it." Putting her finger to the screen, she urged them to look. "See where these electronics shipments are listed? They're heading for the Middle East and South America- two major conflict zones in particular. This has to be their weapon sales. It even breaks down by "stereos" and "smart TV's," Maura added, making mocking quotation gestures with two fingers. "Now then, their drug flow goes under a spice trade statement. But it took me forever to figure out the captives. It's a clothing store front." Looking anxiously at O'Connell's gritted teeth, she explained. "They're moving the people out by gender and size," her finger pointed to a pink tutu. "This translates to a girl, aged 10-15. Siobhan's category."

  
The big Irishman's hand slammed down on the desk, and Thomas put a strong hand on his shoulder. "Steady on, brother," he spoke calmly, "we're one step closer. Steady."

  
When O'Connell wiped his eyes and nose, nodding, Maura continued. "Here's the good news- well, at least for Siobhan. There's been no "sales" of pink tutus in the period since her kidnapping. Which means she's still being held in one of their holding houses. The bad news? She's not being held stateside."

  
Pine's blue gaze was darting rapidly over the invoice she was using as a guide. "How do you know?"

  
"See these trade codes?" Maura pointed to the screen again, "Here, and here? They're international shipping codes, which all hold the code for point of shipment within the series. There's no pink tutus at all in the US." Switching screens and showing a broader shipping manifest, she explained, "They all come from Bosnia. That's where they're holding our girl."

  
Rubbing the back of his neck, Thomas straightened his tall frame away from the desk. "So we've narrowed in on one country. Excellent. What now?"

  
Her worried gaze following O'Connell, who was angrily splashing Jameson into a glass, Maura answered, "You need to go shopping, my dear Sir. We're going to need the sturdiest, most high tech tracking bugs you can find."

 

Stuffing her unruly black curls under a white bob wig, Maura pondered how to insinuate herself closer to Daddy Burićs without anything sexual being involved. The loathsome little troll apparently slept with multiple dancers at the club, often pounding into them while still conducting business. As desperately as she wanted to rescue O'Connell's niece, allowing any of these swine to touch her was a hard limit for Maura. There was always another way. She'd already tried subtly planting a few listening devices, only to discover some in-house scanner discovered them instantly. The only thing she'd managed, Maura thought as she added the silver glitter lipstick, was arousing suspicion that there was a spy in the building. Fortunately, the local cartel was primarily concerned with Homeland Security, so all their efforts were focused there.

"Peaches!" Ken's voice, as usual was three times the volume level needed to get her attention, and Maura leaned back a little to keep grease from the fried chicken her manager was consuming to drip on her silver lame' bra. 

"Yes, Ken?"

  
He frowned down at her limp, resigned tone. "Are you ready for the Luxe Lounge? You and Sparkle have your number all ready?"

  
Watching her dance partner attempt to wedge her DD breasts into her tiny silver bra, Maura smiled ruefully. "All ready, boss. And super excited!"

  
Finishing the last of the chicken leg, Ken nodded. "Now that's the enthusiasm The Silk Slipper is known for!" Catching Sparkle making a gagging motion with her finger down her throat, Maura bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Ženke se!" Barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes for the 50th time that night, Maura pasted a bright leer on her silver lipsticked mouth and put her arm around Sparkle's waist as they walked into the private lounge. The Bosnian Godfather was deep in conversation again, still watching the girls dance intently as he intimidated the businessmen cowering next to him. Trying to listen over the pulse of Blue's "Move Your Body," Maura tried to catch as much as she could of the conversation. She could read lips, but that wasn't particularly helpful with her weak grasp of their language. On the unfortunate American's side, though, she discovered that he was trying to explain why construction was delayed- again on a new luxury resort. Swinging under Sparkle's lifted leg to curl behind her, Maura spun the other dancer out and back in again while trying to discover the location of the resort. When she spun Sparkle so fast that the girl nearly crashed into the mini bar, Maura reluctantly focused back on the performance after an angry glare from Burićs.

  
Trudging back into the loft early the next morning, the girl tried to stifle her yawn as she locked the door. "My good girl..." purred Thomas from just behind her, and Maura couldn't help the pleased little shudder the sound sparked in her nervous system.

  
"Thomas," she sighed, reaching up to put her arm around his neck as Pine tilted her chin for a kiss.

  
He held her face for a moment after, giving her tired face a searching look. "You're exhausted, darling. Go change into something comfortable, I'll be right in."

  
Despite her lack of sleep, Maura could still feel the little frisson of excitement in the direction of her pussy. Quickly slipping on a soft green cotton dress, she brushed out her hair and settled on the bed expectantly. To her surprise, Thomas entered with a large tray filled with wonderful-smelling dishes. "You made dinner?" She sighed in gratitude. Ever since the first meal her Sir had made her- just before ruthlessly making her his- four times, in fact- Maura had always craved Pine's excellent cooking.

  
Carefully spreading a cloth napkin over her lap, his cobalt gaze rose to hers seductively. "Of course. And I intend to feed you every single bite." Thomas was as good as his word, raising spoonfuls of soup to Maura's lips, buttering fresh-baked bread in small bites, even wiping her lips and holding the glass of wine to her mouth. The close attention made the girl wildly shy, but she smiled and continued chewing and swallowing on order. The meal was far too good to waste on her timidity. Brushing her teeth after Thomas carried away the tray, Maura walked out of the bathroom to see him shirtless, lounging on their bed. He held up a silver-backed brush, and she squealed, leaping on to the mattress.

  
Thomas listened to the just barely audible purr from Maura's throat as he carefully brushed her thick hair, smoothing it down to her waist and taking the next section to begin again. He knew that for her, it was better than a massage or even cooking for her. "I need to learn Bosnian, Thomas." She said suddenly. Pausing mid-stroke, he craned his neck to look at her.

  
"Eastern European languages tend to be extremely difficult, darling. Is this your alternative to the listening devices?"  
Shrugging helplessly, Maura answered, "There really are no other alternatives."

The brush made it's way through her curls again, and as her purr started rattling in the back of Maura's throat, she felt her Sir kiss her forehead. "Then we shall learn, sweetness. Sleep now."

 

Waking as a stubborn ray of sunlight slanted across her face, Maura realized it was already late afternoon. Stumbling into the kitchen, she yawned. "Why didn't you wake me? It's so late!"

Leaning down to kiss her open, yawning mouth, Thomas chuckled, "You needed the rest desperately. I even banished O'Connell to make sure he wouldn't wake you." Her pale green gaze raised to his, softer than usual. He guarded her sleep? Maura couldn't help but be moved by his protective efforts. "Now," he said briskly, slapping her bottom and grinning at her insulted yelp, "you need to finish your lunch. We start our Bosnian lessons today."

"Oh?" Maura sat up straighter on the bar stool in the little kitchen off their huge main area. Swallowing the last of her English muffin, she asked, "Shall I get my laptop?" She should have been warned by the way his pupils expanded and the lovely blue of Thomas' eyes turned azure.

"You won't need it. I have an excellent learning system." His grin was unholy, and Maura shifted nervously. "First, we'll learn some key phrases. 'The shipment goes out today.' In Bosnian: 'Pošiljka izlazi danas.'"

Repeating carefully, she responded, "Pošiljka izlazi danas."

"Very good, darling." Pine's voice was deeper already, that crisp British accent sounding thicker somehow as he reached one big hand to gently squeeze her left breast while his mouth descended on the right.

  
"Oh!" Sighed Maura, "shouldn't we keep...uh...on with the lesson?"

  
Drawing back to lick his lips slowly, Thomas smiled at her. "We are, darling. Next- 'the pink tutus are ready for relocation to the resort.' In Bosnian: 'The Pink Tutus su spremni za preseljenje u naselju.'"

  
Maura's eyes widened. "You think they're holding the girls for the new resort, don't you? That's why that old bastard was so angry with the contractor!"

  
Ignoring her realization, Thomas repeated, "The Pink Tutus su spremni za preseljenje u naselju."

  
"The Pink Tutus su spremni za preseljenje u naselju." Maura said obediently, stuttering on the last word as his warm hands slid her tank top off, thumbs traveling her stiff nipples. His hard fingers pulled them gently, twisting and rubbing.

  
"Very good, Pet," that damnable Voice was back. "Send me more electronics. In Bosnian: 'Pošalji mi više od elektronike.'"

  
"Um...Pošalji mi više od elek- ah, ummmm...Thomas! Elektronike?"

  
"Such a good, _good_ girl..." His mouth was traveling down the soft skin of Maura's stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into her belly button. She could just feel the imprint of his sharp teeth as Thomas bit one hipbone, and then the other. "The Bosnian houses are full, we need to send out a shipment. In Bosnian: 'Bosanski kuće su pune, moramo poslati pošiljku.'"

  
"Oh..." Maura moaned, the unfair bastard was slipping two calloused fingers into her panties, sliding smoothly over her clitoris. "Bos- uh, Bosanski kuće su pune, moramo poslati pošiljku." She could feel Thomas lift her hips, taking her soaked undies off and spreading her thighs wider.

  
"Homeland Security is tracking our movements." He continued inexolerably, his voice slightly muffled. "In Bosnian: 'sigurnost domovine prati naše pokrete." Those fingers slid inside Maura's shaking body, curving to meet that spot she'd refused to believe existed before meeting Thomas. Pushing back and forth, his warm mouth landed on her clit, beginning to suckle gently. His fingers inside her felt sharp, pointed; they moved and spread her in a different way than the blunt head of his thick cock. Maura could feel the knuckles on each digit push against the walls of her channel, scraping her.

  
"I- I can't!" Groaned Maura, "please, Thomas!"

  
Lifting his head from her pussy, he regarded her sternly- at least as sternly as a man whose chin is wet with the juices of her pussy could be. "Must I stop, babygirl?"

  
"No..." Maura hated how much higher her voice sounded, needier. "Um, sigurnost domovine prati naše pokrete." Her back arched violently as his mouth landed back on her sensitive slit with a vengeance, thrashing his tongue back and forth. His teeth came back into play, biting her swollen lips. Clutching his dark hair with a shaking hand, she gasped for air.

  
Thomas kept his fingers moving in and out of the soft silk of her channel, pushing a little harder each time. "These are the key players in this transcation. In Bosnian: 'To su ključni igrači u ovoj transakciji.'"

  
"To su ključni igrači u ovoj- oh! Oh, GOD, Thomas, please don't stop, please-" Maura opened her eyes, still panting. "You stopped!" She moaned.

  
"In Bosnian: 'To su ključni igrači u ovoj transakciji." He remorselessly replied, throwing her legs over each broad shoulder, forcing the girl to tighten her grip on the bar stool and the back of his head. Her thighs tightened around Thomas as his fingers began pushing higher and more roughly, beginning to graze against her tender cervix.

  
Groaning as his thumb began circling her clit, Maura forced her lips and tongue to try to work together as she repeated, "To su ključni igrači u ovoj transakciji."

  
Feeling her slippery walls tighten desperately against his fingers, Pine chuckled cruelly. "I'm going to make this pretty little slut come like a rocket." Ignoring her moan, he continued, "In Bosnian: 'Ja ću da se ovo malo drolja dolazi litle raketa.' Quickly now, darling. I'd hate to stop and begin all-" thrust, "over-" thrust, "again."

  
Maura didn't think there was a time she'd hated this man and his magical fingers more. Angling desperately to press her pussy against his mouth, she licked her dry lips and tried to concentrate. "Mmmmm...'Ja ću da se ovo malo-' I'm so close! Please, sweetheart, please don't- 'Ja ću da se ovo malo drolja dolazi-'" Sucking her clit harder than was comfortable, Thomas stopped his fingers inside her as Maura wailed. "Ja ću da se ovo- uh, uh-"

  
"I'm stopping, and you'll go to the club just like this, needy and wanting. So very wet. Such a dirty little girl. They'll smell your hot, sweet cunt all night, won't they, darling?" Thomas tickled her G spot lightly with the pads of his long fingers.

  
"No! No, Thomas, it's-" Maura groaned in gratitude as he began finger fucking her again, "it's 'Ja ću da se ovo malo drolja dolazi litle raketa!' Yes! Oh, GOD, YES!" She let out a shriek that was likely rattling the wooden beams above them as she nearly slipped off the stool, shaking as his tongue and fingers drew the orgasm out longer and longer, until her nerves felt like they were being stretched out with it. When he'd wrung the last of the termors from her pussy, Thomas slid up to kiss Maura, his lips still wet.

  
"Say it again, Pet."

  
Nearly boneless, Maura wrapped her legs around his waist and whispered, "Pošiljka izlazi danas."  
"The Pink Tutus su spremni za preseljenje u naselju."  
"'Pošalji mi više od elektronike."  
"Bosanski kuće su pune, moramo poslati pošiljku."  
"Sigurnost domovine prati naše pokrete."  
"To su ključni igrači u ovoj transakciji."  
"Ja ću da se ovo malo drolja dolazi litle raketa."

  
By the time Maura finished dreamily repeating the phrases, Thomas was sliding smoothly inside her, his cock aching and uncomfortably hard. As he began to stroke inside her, he bit her ear. "Such a good, good girl. You'll never forget those phrases in Bosnian."

"JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH! MY EYES! CAN'T YE GODDAMN SHAG IN YOUR ROOM?"

  
Thomas quickly covered a cringing Maura with his shirt. O'Connell was home.

 

 

 


	6. "Happy New Year, My Maura-girl."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas is wildly romantic. And Maura doesn't have to spend New Year's Eve in the dingy glamour of the Silk Slipper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Thomas and Maura get a lovely, well-deserved moment, I sincerely hope you all will have one of your own this New Year's Eve. At home. At a party. Fast asleep, I don't care. Just please accept my warmest wishes for a wonderful day and sincere thanks for your support and brilliant, funny, exhilarating commentary this year. I am blessed to know you.

 

"OH! Nice! _Nice_ you arsehole!"

Maura jumped back as the speeding taxi splashed her with gritty slush. "The perfect goddamned ending to the perfect hell of my night." Clomping angrily up the stairs to their loft, she slammed open the door, dropping her muddy bag on the floor. Suddenly overwhelmed, the girl stood there, dripping on one of Thomas' expensive oriental rugs.

"Darling..." Maura's tired eyes dropped shut. How could the man reduce her to mush with a single sentence in that exquisite, cultured baritone? Thomas pulled her coat off, kneeling to remove her soaking boots and setting them aside. Maura stood still and just let him undress her like a doll, too tired and discouraged to move. Despite her lover's highly effective language lessons, she was learning nothing from the Bosnian thugs surrounding their horrid Godfather. O'Connell was distant and miserable, thinking of his young niece held in a cold and terrifying prison during Christmastime. Thomas and Maura did their best- the girl making him bake his favorite cookies with her, and Pine forcing the giant ginger to play endless rounds of a drinking game that seemed to resemble poker- a little- to Maura's bemused eyes. But the bleak reason for being in the brightly decorated city made sharing their first Christmas less joyful for the couple. O'Connell left the day after to comfort his sister in Ireland, and Maura was walking bowlegged from increased Bosnian tutelage from her relentless "professor." "You're exhausted," Thomas sounded genuinely concerned, watching her bleak expression. His Maura-girl always smiled for him when she came home, no matter how vile the night had been. "I'll take care of you, babygirl."

  
She shuddered pleasurably, loving the feel of Pine's arms around her, carrying her as if she weighed nothing. He lifted her into a warm tub and undressed quickly, sliding in behind her. Cradling her head against one broad shoulder, Thomas began soaping her skin with a fragrant body wash, letting the lavender scent soothe Maura's shredded nerves. She smiled a little as she felt his pleased hum against her neck as his long fingers smoothed over each breast, washing them with an admirable thoroughness. Her hips began moving against his pelvis hopefully, but he chuckled and finished her bath.  "I can't believe I'm saying this, darling- but not tonight. You need to rest."

  
"I do?" Maura knew the question came out as more of a whine and despised herself for it. But it was hopeless- the moment that man laid his damnably clever fingers on her, she was lost. Knowing just how good her Sir could make her feel surged back with detailed memory. "Really, Sir- I feel fine..."

  
Lifting her and placing Maura on his lap, Thomas began to dry her before rubbing coconut oil on her sleek legs and arms, his calloused palms moving in long strokes. "Are you questioning me, little girl?" His tone was calm, even mild, but she heard the steel behind it and reluctantly shook her head.

  
"No, Daddy."

Knowing how much it comforted her, Thomas put Maura's head on his lap and brushed her hair until she fell asleep. Staring out the window at the white lights decorating the trees along their block, the former murderous head of Jaguar Holdings wondered if it would be easier to simply torture every Bosnian in that cesspool until one of them choked out the intel they needed, rather than allow his sweetheart to return.

Checking back in at the Silk Slipper the following night, Maura's brow wrinkled. "Ken? I'm not seeing the lineup for tomorrow night. When do you need me?"

The portly manager strolled over, finishing off a plate of deep-fried mozzarella sticks. "I don't, Peaches. You're off tomorrow night."

Maura raised one dark brow. "On New Year's Eve? I thought this place was a madhouse. You've been telling me since I was hired that everyone was working."

Ken shrugged his shoulders as he licked off the last of the grease on his fingers. "Yeah, well some Nigerian bigwig bought out the entire club for a private party. His personal assistant already picked the girls they wanted..." A look of false sympathy oozed over the manager's sweaty face. "But if you really want to work, Peaches, we could arrange a little private party at my place, and-"

He broke off his lecherous speculation as Maura actually gagged at the thought. "Thanks boss," she managed, but I've got this knitting project I've been working on- sweaters for sea lions- they get so cold in the harbor this time of year. I've got bundles of yarn all ready to go. You wouldn't believe how long it takes to knit a sweater that'll fit one of those suckers, so..." Ken was already marching off in the direction of the kitchen and the deep fat fryer. Later, after her stages sets and a tiring round in the private rooms with a drunk Croatian who wanted to marry her, Maura tried to clean up before bolting from the club. Rinsing off the glitter and trying to separate the hair-sprayed sticky strands of hair in the cramped dressing room shower, Maura felt a cautious sort of excitement build in her. While Thomas never seemed particularly interested in celebrating any holiday before they'd fallen in love, she felt certain he'd be happy to be ringing in 2017 with her- perhaps naked and in bed- rather than watching Anderson Cooper counting down the ball drop on CNN.

Skipping out at 3am to catch a cab, she was startled when a sleek black Range Rover pulled alongside her. Maura's hand was just sliding into her bag to wrap her fingers around her loaded .38, when the tinted window slid down to reveal the cool blue eyes of Thomas. "Forgive my dreadful manners, darling. Could you help yourself inside? I believe we agreed I wasn't to be seen outside the club?"

Obediently hopping into the passenger's seat, the girl laughed. "Such a lovely reception, Thomas! What is the occasion that merits such a fancy SUV?" Pulling a cashmere blanket from the back seat, he draped it over her tired form. 

"Take off your shoes, darling, and put your seat back. I want you to take a nap." Leaning over the stick shift to whisper in her ear, Thomas grinned darkly as his girl shivered involuntarily. "I have _such_ plans for you, little girl."

Snuggling into the soft blanket automatically, Maura yawned as he pulled away from the curb, slipping into traffic. "But I wanted to tell you the good news, Thomas. I don't have to-" she broke off as another yawn nearly split her jaw open. "I don't have to work New Year's Eve after all..." She dimly felt Thomas push a button and lower her seat back and run his rough knuckles over her cheek. 

"Sleep, little one. I've got you."

 

When Maura woke from her exhausted sleep, she felt alive and energetic for the first time in weeks. Stretching her arms and legs and hearing the pleasant crackle of stiff muscles loosening, she looked around. They'd stopped somewhere for gas, she could see the yellow neon sign, the scent of convenience store hot dogs and fuel blending harshly in her nose. "Good, you're awake." Thomas slid into his seat briskly, rubbing his gloved hands as he started the SUV. 

"Where are we?" Maura asked, looking at the pine trees as they sped past on a smaller road.

"Cape Cod," he answered casually, taking a swallow of the vile gas station coffee.

"Massachusetts?" She asked incredulously, arching her neck to see glimpses of the Atlantic Ocean. "We're in Cape Cod? Why?"

Thomas gave her a lurid smile, full of promise. "For our own New Year's Eve celebration, Pet."

Maura's mouth opened and closed like a fish, shifting as she felt that heat spark between her thighs at that smile of his. "We're staying here?" She began to smile, the first real one he'd seen on her lovely face in days. He nodded his dark head to the windshield.

"We're staying there."

A beautiful lighthouse suddenly soared up in front of them, painted the traditional black and white stripes with the piercing light at the top making it's steady rotation over the ocean. "It's gorgeous!" Maura gasped as the Range Rover slowed, pulling into a parking space. "Where are we, exactly? I don't see any signs." 

Pulling two leather travel bags from the back, Thomas walked around to open her door, helping Maura out. "Race Point Light Station," he answered, pointing to the ocean. "We're on the very tip of the Cape before the open sea. It operates as a bed and breakfast, even though it's still a working lighthouse." He smiled down at the sparkle in those pale eyes. "Perhaps we'll find some sea glass to match your lovely green gaze, darling."

They were greeted at the thick oak door by an older woman, silver-haired and wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "Mr and Mrs Laing? Welcome to Race Point. I'm just making your lunch, come in, please!" Taking the two travel bags from Thomas as if they weighed nothing, she started briskly up the steep, narrow stairs. "I'm Mrs Moody, and the Mister is just outside locking all the boats down. Looks like we're in for a Nor'easter tomorrow!" Mrs Moody opened the door to a large sitting room, decorated with antiques and styled to look the way the lighthouse did when it was built in 1900. "No television, I'm afraid," she said apologetically, "but that blasted restoration committee put in a wifi signal and cell service." Breezing through another set of double doors, the innkeeper stood to the side so Maura and Thomas could see the heart stopping expanse of the Atlantic before them, roiling with whitecaps and dotted with fishing boats keeping close to shore. Putting down their bags, the woman smiled proudly. "There's a fireplace here, and another in your sitting room with plenty of firewood. Bathroom's here-"

Maura's mouth actually watered. There was no shower, but the ancient claw foot tub was large enough for them both, seated in front of another bay window looking out on to the ocean. Fluffy white towels were folded neatly by the old porcelain sink and Mrs Moody had thoughtfully left a basket of soaps and candles. "It's beautiful," she gasped, "thank you, Mrs Moody!" She turned to smile at the older woman, who looked pleased by Maura's admiration. 

Turning to Thomas, she assured, "I'll your lunch ready by the time you're settled in. As per your wish, all the makings for dinner are in the kitchen. The Mister and I are in the keeper's cottage out back-" she gestured to the little stone house a quarter mile away. "Close enough if you need us, far away if- well, you're such a lovely young couple." She smiled approvingly at them both, not seeming to notice Maura wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

As the woman bustled down the stairs, she turned to tease Thomas. "Mr and Mrs Laing?" Maura laughed, "We sound so very upper-crust!"

"As we are, darling," he leaned down to kiss her just under the girl's ear. "But I still intend to make you scream like a common whore tonight." Running the tip of his tongue on the soft shell of her ear, Thomas gave a malevolent chuckle as he walked over to the armoire to unpack. Clutching the cashmere blanket from the car against her chest, Maura was embarrassed to hear a squeak escape her throat. The wind kept steadily rising as the "Laings" finished their excellent lunch, and after more explicit instructions on how to run every system in the lighthouse, their innkeepers retired to their cottage, leaving the two alone.

Turning to Thomas, the girl tucked a black curl behind one ear. "What would you like to do next? I believe there's a chess board here, and I did see a Scrabble box on the shelf..." Her voice died off as the pale blue of his eyes darkened into a cobalt, his head dropping down slightly to stare at Maura in a rather predatory way.

"Remove your clothing."

Looking out the dining room window nervously, Maura cleared her throat. "H-here, Thomas?" As his eyes narrowed, she hastily corrected, "yes, Sir."

Seating himself in one of the big oak chairs, he leaned back like a King surveying all that was his, crossing one long leg over the other at the knee. 'I'm blushing,' Maura thought in amazement, 'I take my clothes off as a _career_ , for God's sake! And he can still make me blush...' Pulling off the pink sweater he'd packed for her, the girl smiled sheepishly as she unbuttoned her jeans, angling slowly to pull them down, legs straight so Thomas could see her lacy pink undies. Hearing a grunt behind her, Maura smiled to herself. Turning around again, she raised her hands to her bra straps, looking at him for confirmation. The sight of that slow, lascivious smile crossing his face made her moan slightly, pulling off her bra with shaking fingers. At once, Thomas was in front of her, warm hands on her hips. 

"Up you go, Pet." Lifting her easily onto the mahogany dining table, he ran his hands up Maura's legs, stroking and scratching lightly as he lifted her hips to pull the pink scrap of lace away, leaving her naked on the table as he stood before her, fully dressed. Thomas looked ruggedly handsome, she thought resentfully, as perfectly at home in an oatmeal-colored Irish sweater and dark jeans as he was in a Savile Row suit. Pulling up his chair, he sat before her, putting her heels on the arms of his chair and looking at the pink and private parts of his Pet. Her beautiful pale skin flushed pink, nipples already hardening in the slightly chilly room. "Such a feast," he purred, and Maura groaned. The Voice. The deep, rasping growl Thomas used when he was already hard and intended to make her come over and over until she would have to beg him- usually in tears- to stop. His thick fingers slid along her seam, sliding closer to her opening to swirl in her slick, which made an instant and eager appearance. Looking down her body, she started shaking as his blue eyes rose to meet hers, a greedy smile on his face before he put it against her pussy.

"Oh..." Maura moaned blissfully as that warm, talented tongue went to work, swirling around her clit as two fingers traveled up and down her wet slit, idly pinching her swelling lips and painting her clit with her own wetness, nudging the little bundle until it was exposed and swollen for his lips. "Oh, oh GOD! Sirrr..." She slurred as Thomas latched onto her painfully sensitive flesh and tugged gently, tickling it with his tongue as his fingers pulled sharply on one slippery lip and then the other. When she unconsciously started moving her pelvis upwards, he slammed a heavy forearm across her hips, looking at her sternly. "Yes, Daddy," she managed, "I won't move again- OH!" Two calloused fingers slid up her cunt, sliding back and forth roughly as they pressed against her tender walls, seeking and easily finding that receptive little spot that never failed to make her come when Thomas pressed on it- "AH! So good Daddy- it's really- OH!" Maura could feel his shoulders shake with laughter where they held her thighs open, but she couldn't be made to care as she blissfully shuddered through her first orgasm. Pine's fingers rode her clutching walls until the aftershocks were done and his girl was limp and helpless on the table before him. Pulling his wet fingers from her, he took them and ran a long line down her quivering stomach. 

"That's one." She could hear the rasp of his zipper as Thomas pulled his uncomfortably hard cock out, not bothering to remove his jeans any more than to give him room to slide himself inside her. Maura felt the rough wool of his sweater rub against her soft breasts as he began to work his shaft into her, sucking and pulling on those stiff, chilled nipples as his hips began snapping against her thighs. The girl's back arched- Thomas usually gave her some time to get used to him again- to let her stretch and make room. But there was no such pampering today, he pushed through her wet walls and yanked back out, harder and faster as his broad palms reached down to squeeze her ass and move the girl under him to meet his pace. One hand reached blindly up as Maura tried to run her hand through his hair, but he took both wrists and pushed them above her head. "You are not to move your hands, or I'll be forced to discipline you, little girl." The Voice again- damn him! Maura thought blearily.

Suddenly, his pace slowed and Thomas began moving that thick cock smoothly, sleekly like a machine guided through a fitted passage. The sinuous roll of his ass and and hips made Maura's legs tighten around him. "Sorry, darling," he soothed, "I fear I wasn't quite the gentlemen, fucking up into you like that. Shoving my cock so far up that juicy little cunt of yours that I nearly came out the other side, didn't I? Poor baby..." Biting her lip, the girl tried not to whimper, his filthy praise in that perfect Cambridge aristocratic drawl was an unbearable combination. Leaning closer, Thomas licked a line up her chest, between her breasts. "I'm sure you can't blame me, darling. That pink pussy of yours just glistening for me, wasn't it? So swollen and juicy, all that lovely slick just waiting for my fingers to play in it, slide it back and forth until your dirty little kitty was gushing. Such a good, good little girl with such a filthy body. You needed a hard fucking, didn't you, Pet? Feeling me shove through those greedy little walls of yours..." His thumb and forefinger suddenly took Maura's swollen pearl between them and began to pull, forcing a gasp from her. "I've found that when you're so focused on the feel of my fucking through you, your tender clit just loves to be treated roughly. Not like a _good_ girl's pussy. It needs a sharp pull or two, maybe a twist-" Maura's gasp turned into a wail as the ungentle treatment of her most sensitive spot sent her into another blazing orgasm. The feel of his cock sliding along her shuddering channel made her come again, and a grinning Pine stroked her through it. He pushed a finger inside her, wedged in with his hard shaft, it nearly sent her off the table. 

"Too much! Please, Daddy, that's really thick-" The finger slid slowly out and painted a "2" on the inside of one thigh and then a "3" on the other.

Whispering against her ear, his breath tinged with mint and coffee, Thomas breathed, "That's three." He began stroking his cock faster now, pushing stubbornly against her wildly oversensitive walls to spread her wider.  Looped her legs over his elbows, he pulled them apart widely, watching himself slide in and out, glistening with his girl's slick and shiny from her orgasms. Maura pressed the heel of one hand against her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts together enough to beg him to stop. There was something about the utterly scandalous sound of his lean hips slapping against her thighs, the wet sound of their bodies slapping together. And then he used The Voice again. "Sweet girl," Thomas purred, "I must demand something more from you, even though your tender little cunt has been so very hospitable." He made a growl of approval when Maura shuddered against him, whimpering. "You come so hard sometimes, Pet, so very hard that you actually lose consciousness. Did you know that? When it's all too much and I won't stop, and then I see your exquisite green eyes roll back in your head-" He gave an especially sharp thrust and Maura shrieked. "Your eyes glaze over in lust, precious," Thomas continued as if they were having a conversation about the dinner menu. "And then your back arches, and there's a delicious, slow exhale of breath, and you're just _gone_ , darling." He watched her thighs begin to shake, trying to hold the position he'd placed her in, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Taking hold of her clit again, Thomas leaned close. "Do you know what I think? I do believe it's about to happen again, and when you lose consciousness, you will gush those luscious juices all over my cock and down our thighs. It's always embarrassed you to gush, little one. And yet there is nothing more arousing. Perhaps you will manage to hold on long enough to enjoy it with me. When I pull on your tender, slippery bundle, I'm going to tug quite hard. And I'm going to shove my cock so hard inside you that you'll feel my come shoot through your cervix."

Maura's eyes were wide with alarm and a helpless arousal that kept her from moving a muscle- hands still obediently above her head and legs wrapped around his waist. She made a small, helpless sound in her throat as Pine gently whispered, "One. Two. Three." And with a sharp tug of her swollen clit, she came again so hard that the searing spark shuddering up her spine made everything else go dark.

 

The snow was beating against the heavy glass windows when Maura managed to wake up. Dragging herself to a sitting position, she gasped and leaned on one hip. "Baby girl, are you sore? Poor darling." The amused solicitude in Thomas' voice irritated her, even though his azure eyes were warm as he gently picked Maura up and put her into a steaming tub. Lighting candles around her, he made her drink a glass of water and gave her a tender kiss. "Just soak for a moment, sweetheart. I'll put together some dinner for us."

Clumsily trying to rub the sleep from her eyes, Maura cleared her throat and asked, "What time is it?"

He poked his head back into the bathroom with a smile. "11:30pm. We have just enough time for dinner before I kiss my beautiful girl soundly into 2017." 

She could smell something delicious when Thomas entered their bedroom again, and her stomach growled hopefully. Maura was trying to stand up when he scooped her out of the tub and onto a soft mat while her dried her, wrapping her sore body in a terry cloth robe. Putting her onto the loveseat set by the fire, Thomas pulled her on to his lap, taking a cracker spread with some heavenly-smelling cheese and lifting it to her mouth. "I can feed-" Maura started.

"-Yourself, I know." Thomas wasn't irritated this time, smiling as they both recalled all of her furious efforts to hold her autonomy as his captive in Algeria. Leaning in for a long kiss, he pulled back and said, "But let me feed you, all the same." And Pine did, offering Maura little bites of savory meat, buttery potatoes, asparagus and a perfect, tiny cheesecake for dessert. When he lifted his Rolex to show her the stroke of midnight, Thomas leaned in close, touching her plump lips softly with his thumb before sliding his warm hand to her cheek to hold her as his lips pressed against hers, stroking, sucking, even biting lightly. Her mouth stayed slightly open, eyes dreamily closed when he finally pulled away. With a rare, tender smile, the formerly cold and terrifying Thomas Pine put a kiss on her forehead and whispered, "Happy New Year, my Maura-girl."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There actually IS a Race Point Light Station in Provincetown- it's right on the tip of Cape Cod. My husband and I stayed there last summer. We love lighthouses and try to stay at a new one as often as we can afford it. One of my favorites is the East Brother Light Station at the mouth of the San Francisco bay, facing out into the Pacific Ocean. Just in case you're ever in the area... ;)


	7. Saucy Schoolgirls And Cheap Vodka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maura gets her gadgets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are beginning to heat up! There's no trigger warnings for this chapter, but we're looking at bloody retribution pretty soon. I suspect none of you will object.

The rising sun was just poking through the clouds left by the New Year's Eve nor'easter when Maura abruptly sat up in bed. "Of course! That idiot wasn't talking about the Hudson River! How could I not have understood him?!" 

Thomas sat up as the girl scrambled over him to get to her laptop. "Darling, usually when you're awake this early, I'm already in your mouth. What did you just say about the Hudson?"

Maura settled against his chest as Pine drew a blanket over her shoulders, already in goosebumps from the chilly morning. "This idiot Bosnian insisted on a private dance Friday night before I left the club- he was drunk and kept mumbling about a river..." her fingers were flying over the keys and Thomas settled her sideways on his lap to watch the screen. "I thought he was trying to be smooth- some clumsy form of Eastern European romantic. But he was telling me right where they are- look!" Eagerly tapping the screen, she looked up with a bright smile. It was a picture of Banja Luka, the second largest city in Bosnia. The historic Kastel Fortress was in the foreground of the photo, facing the Vrbas River. "He said-" Maura lowered her voice to a mumbling baritone, "-Ja ću voditi ljubav sa tobom kao Vrbas teče pored tvrđave."

Azure eyes narrowed into a polar blue as Thomas looked down at her. "I will make love to you as the Vrbas flows past the Fortress?" He ran one long finger over his lip in thought. "Definitely a Paukove Mreže property. Why do you think it's a holding house?"

Taking a gulp of water from the bottle on her bedside table, Maura made a face. "His next words of 'romance' were 'Mi ćemo naučiti oni koji se plaše kurve kako se to radi.' He was talking about the girls. It has to be."

She didn't think his eyes could get any colder, but the chill from Pine's expression made her shudder, even though Maura knew it wasn't directed at her. "We will teach those scared bitches how its done." Feeling her shake, he wrapped the blanket more snugly around her. "Of course." Lifting her neatly off his lap, Thomas strode nude over to the dresser, pulling his phone out of his coat pocket and rapidly dialing O'Connell. Turning to face her, he asked, "How populated is the area around the Kastel Fortress?"

Tearing her eyes away from his perfect ass, Maura swallowed guiltily and tried to concentrate. "That's the thing, there's very few buildings around it- the whole area is more or less gated, very quiet."

He nodded grimly. "No neighbors to hear anything suspicious, control over who comes and goes- O'Connell! Start assembling your men. We've got a conclusive lead- no, brother- don't get ahead of ourselves, we can't risk Siobhan with a half-arsed venture. I'm calling Sahnoun now."

Already up and heading for the bathroom, Maura looked up. "Mr. Sahnoun? Where is he?"

Thomas chuckled, "In New York City." He leaned over her shoulder and turned on the water in the tub.

"New York?" Maura frowned, "For how long? Why hasn't he contacted us?"

Sliding into the water and curling a finger at her with a knowing smile, he answered, "Who do you think was the Nigerian millionaire who bought out the Silk Slipper for New Year's Eve?"

Gaping at him, the girl suddenly burst into laughter. "You bought out the entire strip club for the holiday so that we could spend it together, didn't you?"

Settling her thighs astride him, Pine ran one big hand down her neck, over her breasts and settled just above her pelvis, pressing on a sensitive spot. "Of course." Slipping his hand lower, his cobalt gaze ran over her breasts as they suddenly arched out when his fingers found her clitoris. "Don't feel sorry for him. I do believe he was entertained by- what did he call it? Western decadence."

After an appreciative goodbye to the Moody's, they were back on the road to New York City. Thomas was speaking rapidly in Russian to someone on the phone, and Maura briefly wished she'd learned more of the language. Some of the best hackers on the Dark Web were Russian. It would have been so helpful... But her multi-lingual skills- and her lower half- were being taxed to the limit with her Croatian studies. She broke out of her reflection as he hung up.  Snuggling closer, she kissed his cheek. "What have you learned?" 

Pine gave her a brief smile before returning his eyes to the road. "We're heading to St. Petersburg tonight."

Raising an eyebrow, Maura leaned back to look at him. "Why Russia, when we know their main holding house is in Banja Luka?"

"Because there is a shopkeeper in St. Petersburg that sells lovely pashmina scarves," he answered, running a hand up her thigh. They both felt ridiculously bonded from their romantic night in the lighthouse.

"All right..." she answered slowly, knowing he was toying with her. 

"...and he also sells information. Access codes, names and addresses of Paukove Mreže thugs, and some safe connections with the local police."

Maura snorted inelegantly. "The officers who aren't on the take?"

Thomas laughed, "Darling, everyone is corrupted. These are the police who will do the right thing _after_ you've bribed them." Making a turn onto I-90, he squeezed her leg. "We might have to add Russian to your studies, darling."

Moving uncomfortably in her seat, Maura fought the instant surge of heat to her pelvis. "Any more lessons, Thomas, and I might not be able to walk by the time we make it to St. Petersburg."

The big hand stroking her lean thigh stilled. "Are you saying you're too frail for my instruction, little girl?"

The girl's hips involuntarily jolted up as she licked her suddenly dry lips, "No, Sir."

  

"Thomas, I _must_ go." Maura stood in the doorway as Pine continued to pack.

"Ridiculous!" He snarled, finally looking up to glare at her. "We finally have the information we need, why would you wish to expose yourself to that filth any longer?" The mutual warmth from the drive home was over, and Maura's heart was pounding. She hated going against Thomas- especially about something she knew caused him intense rage and frustration. As much as she despised the Silk Slipper and every repulsive creature who came there, at least she had the comfort of knowing she was _doing_ something to get them closer to their goal. Maura knew that it killed Pine a little every night when she went to “work.”

“Please, Thomas- sweetheart, please listen to me. Ken left me a message about a private party tonight. It’s that repellent contractor who’s building their South American sex resort. If I can plant a bug on him- maybe even get him drunk enough to talk- I could get the location of the construction.” She was relieved to see he paused long enough to hear her. He’d rapidly tracked down the identity of the American who’d been grilled by Daddy Burićs that night in the Luxe Lounge.

“Morton Trempt is holding the party?” He frowned, moving over to the doorway to look down at her. “That’s perfect timing.” While it was easy to identify the sleazy contractor, it was harder to track where Trempt was building the “sex resort.” The loathsome American had eight different construction projects going in different South American countries. While Thomas had established surveillance on each build, any of them could be the Paukove Mreže resort.

Maura nodded vigorously. “I remember his excuses about why construction was taking so long. But he promised Burićs it would be complete shortly after the New Year. Burićs was so adamant about getting the resort up and running as soon as possible. He-” she shuddered, despite herself, “-he said that the whole resort was booked out for 6 months already.” Placing a warm palm on her cheek, Thomas looked down at her sad face. “Thomas, what if they’re moving the girls there already? I didn’t find a shipping manifest, but it’s only a matter of time, and-”

“Sweetheart.” The single word nearly broke Maura, hearing his empathy and concern. Thomas knew this rescue effort was forcing ugly memories from her childhood to the forefront of her mind. She’d woken up nearly every night for the past 2 weeks with nightmares stemming from her childhood in that terrible little flat in Belfast. “I understand, darling. I do.” Wrapping his arms around her, Pine smoothed her thick curls as he thought. “Four of the bastard’s construction projects are near completion- discerning which is the resort would help us focus the attacks more efficiently. Here, hold on…” Pulling open the door to their floor safe, he rapidly typed out the combination and removed a box. “I’ve been waiting for the chance to use these, darling. But they’re really more your style, my darling secret agent.” He winked at Maura as she rolled her eyes and laughed. "Here, try this ring- it should fit your pinky finger."

Maura gasped as she lovingly held up the ring. “Gadgets! Oh! I never got any of the good stuff when I was a field operative,” she admitted, admiring the jewelry. “I always wanted something James Bond-esque.”

 “Here’s your very special gadget, little one. It’s the remote router bug you’ve been asking for. If you can get it attached to him long enough for him to get back to his server, you-”

  
“-can change his security codes long enough to download his hard drive!” The girl actually jumped up and down, clapping like a child given a pony for her birthday. Pine shook his head. There was a sudden surge of love so powerful for his Maura that he actually felt weak in the knees. Nothing must happen to his girl. _Nothing._

 

Fastening the elastic to her pigtail, Maura cleared her mind and focused. She had to lure that fat bastard back into one of the private rooms to place the bug, or perhaps even get some information from him. “Misty Dawn,” a fragile little blonde with a delightfully innocent face mentioned Trempt loved the “saucy schoolgirls.” With a sigh, she pulled out her tiny plaid skirt. Saucy schoolgirl it was. Taking the chubby contractor back to the “Purple Blossom Lounge” was easier than Maura expected. A few special shakes of her toned ass in that miserable skirt and swinging those pigtails back and forth had Tempt frantically waving fifty dollar bills and howling, “Over here, Peaches! Bring those sweet peaches over here!” Marcus gave her the stink-eye as Maura pulled Trempt along by one sweaty hand, trying to get him into the room and get it all over with as quickly as possible.

 “Not like you to pull a client off the floor, girl.” Maura startled as the muscled bouncer came up behind her.

 “Good lord, Marcus! You scared the hell out of me!” She gasped, clutching the bottle of off-brand vodka Trempt demanded to her sequined chest. “What’s your problem?”

 His dark face was expressionless, but as he surveyed her, Maura could tell the man was concerned. “Everything okay? You look all shook up.”

 Leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek, she smiled. “It’s all good. I just hate these private dances, you know that. It’ll all be over soon.” Marcus continued to stare at her until the drunken contractor yelled from inside the room.

 “Peaches! Get your sweet ass in here!” In unison, they both rolled their eyes and Maura took a deep breath, walking into the suffocating purple surroundings and shutting the door behind her.

Rolling her hips to the shrieking tones of Motley Crue’s “Girls! Girls! Girls!” she smiled seductively down at the sweating Trempt. “Baby, it’s so nice to see you relax,” Maura purred, “you always look like a man with too many responsibilities…” Staring at her cleavage as she bent from the hip, making a sweeping pass near his face, the contractor nodded.

 “Peaches, honey. You have no idea.” He loosened his tie and attempted what he thought was a sexy leer. “I’ve been needing your special kind of...relaxation bad. Really bad…” he drifted off as her sparkly bra made another pass.

 “Poor baby,” she soothed, bending down and peeking over her long legs at him. “You build fancy places, right? So much travel.”

 “Mmmm…” he grunted, staring at her ass, “luxury resorts. I’m just about ready for a grand opening on the latest.”

 “Really?” Trilled Maura. “How fancy! Maybe I could visit the resort! I’ve been dying for a vacation.”

 He burst out in laughter. “Honey, you don’t want to visit this grand opening,” Trempt’s voice dripped with condescension, “it’s not quite your style, Peaches.”

 “Oh?” Her big, green eyes fluttered the long false eyelashes at him, gazing up adoringly. “Give me a lounge chair and a pool and I’m happy.”

 With another patronizing chuckle, he assured her, “This is a specialty resort, baby, for very specific tastes. But I’ll take you down to my place in Miami, buy you a real sexy bikini...I’ll bet your peaches look real sweet in a little-”

 Throwing back her long hair to playfully slap him in the face, Maura twirled again. “That sounds lovely. So, where is your specialty place, baby?”

 “Mmmph,” he groaned, taking another gulp of his vodka tonic as she placed one hand on the couch beside his head, then the other. As she began tickling his ear, Trempt’s bloodshot eyes rolled back. “Aw, baby...it’s uh...keep doing that thing...it’s called Atol das Rocas, off the coast of Rio. We’re the only structure on the island.” He took another drink, smacking his rubbery lips in appreciation as he stared at her chest. “Complete privacy.”

 “That sounds-” Maura forced herself to stop a sudden dry heave. “-that sounds so romantic.” With a quick twist, she slid the needle from the ring into his hairline, so the puncture mark wouldn’t be seen. As the drunken contractor slipped into unconsciousness, she furiously climbed off, yanking back his shirt and slapping the router bug into his back hair. It was so dark and bountiful, the bug would never be noticed. The sudden scrape of the door opening made her head shoot around. Marcus stood there, a dark figure outlined by the garish club lights behind him.

“Girl. What are you _doing?_ ” His voice was cold as the huge man blocked her route to the door.

 


	8. Welcome To St. Petersburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maura makes Thomas discover his inner James Bond, and he makes her explore the hottest of passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest appreciation and admiration to the supremely talented Miss Tardis- who explained many crucial elements of specific "play" in this chapter. Lovely girl, I hope I did all your wonderful advice justice. You are the QUEEN. Seriously. By the way: if you love the more intense elements of BDSM and haven't read her Loki/Avenger hotness called "Skye In The Tower," I suggest you leave this page instantly and get your ass over there! http://archiveofourown.org/works/6865465
> 
> Many, MANY thanks to my dearest girlie Hurricanerin, who helped me sort out Maura's state of mind after escaping the sleazy glamour of the ugh- Silk Slipper to find her way- emotionally- back to Thomas.
> 
> OH! If you enjoyed the crossover between Hurricanerin's "I'm Slipping Under" and my "Love The Way You Lie," this chapter segues into a crossover with the incandescent Misreall's "The Road To Hel Is Paved With Misunderstandings." These crossovers are KILLING me. YOU try to match up against the skills of these two! Anyway, hope you enjoy. Many thanks as always for reading, dear friends.

The sudden scrape of the door opening made her head shoot around. Marcus stood there, a dark figure outlined by the garish club lights behind him.

“Girl. What are you _doing?”_ His voice was cold as the huge man blocked her route to the door.

Maura instantly went still, calculating the distance between the bodyguard and the door, along the with likelihood of getting through a crowded nightclub in high heels and out the door. She knew she could take Marcus. But it would be difficult and very noisy. An attention-grabbing fight was not in her best interests.

“You heard me. What ARE you doing?” His bulging arms folded over each other as Marcus glared from the unconscious contractor to a flushed Maura.

Flipping her hair over one be-glittered shoulder, she shrugged. “He got grabby. I got him drunk enough to finally pass out. It seemed like a better idea than punching him in the face.”

Marcus walked over to the room’s little bar and lifted the nearly full bottle of vodka meaningfully. “You know you’re supposed to call me for a beatdown when some asshole touches you. Tha’ fuck is going on, girl? You’re lying to me.”

Maura rolled her eyes. “I didn’t steal anything, if that’s what you’re thinking!” At least her defensive tone was realistic, she thought glumly. “Look, Marcus. I just- I just can’t take this shit anymore. I thought I could- but- God! I fucking hate it here!” Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, threatening the skilled swoop of her eyeliner. “I’m quitting tonight. I have to. But I haven’t done anything wrong, I swear!” There was no more compelling lie than one mixed with truth, and Maura knew it. Marcus _knew_ the despair she felt every time she wore her naughty police officer and slutty nurse outfits. He knew she hated every second she spent in the private rooms. Maura allowed her guilt to spread across her expression. Her friend just didn’t need to know it was from lying to him and possibly putting the bouncer in danger. This was the part of her work as an operative that always shredded Maura’s soul. Those caught in the crossfire of the “greater good.”

The huge man eyed her silently for some time, a troubled expression on his face. Finally, Marcus pivoted one foot and moved to the left, allowing her passage from the room. “There’s something that’s off about you, Peaches,” he said heavily, “and not in the usual ‘druggie, crazy, I hate men’ way. Get your shit and get out. Go do something else and don’t take off your clothes again.”

Childishly wiping her nose with the back of her hand, Maura miserably nodded, heading past him and the snoring contractor on the couch.

“Girl?”

Maura turned, trying to tidy up her smeared eyeliner. “Yes, Marcus?”

His face was in shadow again, and she couldn’t see his expression. “Don’t come back here. I can’t cover for you twice.” Nodding as she tried to force a watery smile, she turned away and headed for the dressing room. Just as she’d left the club with the little she’d managed to pack in her bag with shaking hands, Ken strolled into the Purple Paradise Lounge.

“What’s wrong with him?” The manager eyed Trempt, just coming around after a few not-so gentle slaps from Marcus. “And where’s Peaches?”

Marcus shrugged his huge shoulders, his deltoids doing a lovely little dance under his black t-shirt. “She says this guy passed out, shitfaced. Maura threw up in the sink over there- “ he said, pointing at the little bar, “and said she was feeling sick, so she headed home. I just hope this asshole doesn’t puke all over me.” Briskly shaking the delirious contractor, Marcus got the man up and wobbling to the door,

Ken shuddered. “Fuck! Puke! Nasty fuckers...get him in his car and out of here! The last thing we need is some shitty flu wiping out all the girls for two weeks.” Pouring a sweaty and disheveled Trempt into his Town Car, Marcus nodded to the driver. Looking at the disappearing tail lights of the limo and back to the lurid pink neon of the Silk Slipper’s sign, the huge man allowed himself one moment of questioning his life choices before shaking his head and walking back inside.

Opening the door to their loft, Maura saw that Thomas had packed for her, noting the luggage stacked by the door. “I’m home...where are you, Thomas?” Walking over to her computer array, she double-checked to see if the tracker she’d planted on the contractor was showing any results. Nothing yet. Jumping slightly as his warm hands spread over her shoulders, Maura took the chance of leaning back on Pine’s hard chest, hoping he wasn’t still angry with her.

Placing a kiss just under her ear, Thomas murmured, “Did everything go as planned? Are you all right?” Rubbing her cheek against his knuckles, Maura nodded.

“The bug is planted in the copious back hair of Trempt, and I have the location of the resort about to open-” She was cut off as he whirled her suddenly, putting his hand on her throat, his thumb pushing her chin up.

“Are _you_ all right, lovely?” Looking up into those troubled polar blue eyes, Maura smiled, a huge, relieved, genuine smile.

“Not a scratch, Sir.”

 

Settled on to their private jet with three laptops stacked next to her, the girl looked longingly at a chilled bottle of white wine laid out by the flight attendant before shaking her head. “Too much to do, and I need my wits about me,” Maura mumbled, trying to give herself a pep talk.

“What’s this about your wits, darling? Because I assure you, they’re magnificent.” Thomas slid onto the couch next to her, tucking the soft blanket on her lap around her thighs. Maura was chilly on every flight they’d taken, so he didn’t expect this experience to be different.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, Maura admitted, “The wine looks very tempting, but I’m still waiting to see that tracker activate, and I’ve leaving laptops two and three open for your mercenary connections and whatever mysterious message you’re looking for from St. Petersburg.”

“Thank you,” Thomas replied absently, eyes darting over a message on Laptop #2. “Brazil is set, Maura-girl. I’m giving us 10 days to pull as many locations as we can. Everyone must move in at exactly the same moment, so there’s no chance to warn the others.”

 

She was so deep into her hacking efforts that Maura was a little startled to hear the soft request of the flight attendant to buckle her seatbelt as they made the descent into St. Petersburg. Shamelessly pressing herself against the window, she eagerly watched the city come into focus, ignoring Thomas’s amused grin. Maura never had the funds or the opportunity to travel before meeting him, and even afterwards they were careful- being “dead” as far as the world knew meant they had to be extremely selective about where they went.

Once brushed past the customs guards, (who cast a completely disinterested eye after receiving the promised stack of Euros in their passports) Thomas settled Maura and their luggage into their expensive car and nodded to the driver to proceed. “Where to, please, Mr. Laing?”

His accent was thick, and she shivered in excitement. He sounded so...Russian! She leaned over to answer him, “We’re staying at the Grand Hotel Europe, thank you, Mr. Lashklov.”

Thomas raised a haughty brow at her. “Ah. The finest hotel in St. Petersburg, darling. Very good.”

Maura smiled happily, slipping her arm in his as she leaned over to look out his window. “True, but even better, we shall sleep where Strauss and Tchaikovsky composed their music- even Dostoyevsky stayed there- they’ve named his suite after him!”

Raising her hand to kiss it, he asked, “I assume, then, that we are reserved for the Dostoyevsky suite?”

Grinning, Maura shook her head. “Even better! I secured the James Bond suite!” She sighed rapturously.

Thomas stared at her for a moment, then burst into laughter. “The James Bond suite?”

“Yes!” She replied indignantly, “they filmed Goldeneye there! With Pierce Brosnan and that lovely Sean Bean?”

“Lovely?” He growled, leaning closer, “the lovely Sean Bean?”

“I- I meant his lovely voice, Thomas!” She leaned back from him, half laughing and half apprehensive. “He has one of those beautiful, sonorous voices. Like yours.”

“Sonorous?” He said thoughtfully, “I have a sonorous voice?”

“Really?” Maura was startled. “You really don’t know, darling, that you charm girls out of their knickers just with that exquisite voice of yours?”

He threw his head  back, laughing. “I must admit lovely, that is not a compliment I’ve heard before.”

“Only because they were too afraid of you to mention it,” she retorted, smiling as she kissed him again.

Once they were comfortably ensconced in the much-anticipated Bond Suite, Maura quickly unpacked for them both as Thomas finished a call with O’Connell. “The players are nearly all in place,” he said, pulling the signal scrambler from his cell phone. “O’Connell has 8 sites covered. Mr. Sahnoun will be our buyer to get us into the Bosnian safe house.”

Maura shook her head, “I can’t picture our friend playing the brutal child slavery broker, but he has so many talents…”

Kissing her hand, Thomas leaned down to look directly into Maura’s eyes. “I’ve laid an outfit for you on the bed. Do go shower and freshen up. We have somewhere to be in an hour.” His eyes were suddenly warming to that arousing azure color that always warned Maura she was in for a rather magnificent shagging, and her breath caught.

“Of course, Sir.”

When she stepped out into the sitting room exactly 35 minutes later, Maura was a vision. She'd donned a flimsy little white silk dress- very short- and a lush blonde wig. Thomas looked very much like he’d prefer to throw her down on the 18th century sofa and have her right there, but he steeled himself and helped her into her black coat. “This coat darling- the weather turns nasty tomorrow, it won’t be warm enough. I’ll order something to be delivered.”

Maura shrugged, used to him choosing wardrobe pieces for her. “Where are we going?” She asked, once again secured in their private car. Thomas said nothing, giving her a dark smile before pulling something out of his heavy leather trench coat. The clothing selection he’d made surprised her, so different than his well-tailored suits. He was wearing a shamefully tight pair of leather pants, a simple black shirt and the...Coat.

Leaning over, his long arms placed something gently over her eyes. Automatically straightening it, the girl realized it was a lace mask. Watching as Thomas slipped a black mask over his own face, she smiled uncertainly. “Where are you taking me, Sir? I’m a little...nervous."

Kissing her before offering her a hand as the car door opened, he murmured into her ear, “You should be.”

The building certainly didn’t raise any alarms, Maura thought doubtfully, looking up at the weathered stone edifice. She could hear music echo faintly from the walls, but nothing but a plain, polished black door gave her any clues. Once inside, Thomas gave a stack of bills to the pretty blonde concierge and a discreet card. Nodding, the girl handed him a key. “Welcome, Mr and Mrs Laing. Please let us know if we can do anything…” and here she leaned closer, allowing them both a generous view of her cleavage, “ _anything_ to make your stay more pleasurable.”

Maura rolled her eyes briefly behind her mask, but it was hardly an unusual event. Even with Maura standing right next to Thomas with her hand clasped firmly in his, women would constantly attempt to offer themselves to him, sometimes ignoring her, and sometimes- to her mortification and his amusement- to them both. Thomas opened a door with the key, and she walked into what looked like a comfortable little hotel room. Wrinkling her brow, Maura looked at Thomas. “Are...we staying here, Sir?”

Smiling as he took her coat, Pine brushed his long fingers against her bare neck, enjoying the corresponding shiver. “Not exactly, darling.” Running his fingers over the thin silk covering her breasts, he smiled as her nipples hopefully peaked for him, pressing against the light fabric. “Come, Pet. I’ll buy you a drink.” Taking her hand, they left the room and entered through a huge set of double doors, flanked by doormen wearing nothing but tight, spandex thongs.

Maura blinked in the dim lighting, then froze. Thomas had brought her to a bondage club. His mouth was right next to her ear when he chuckled, enjoying the paralyzed expression on her face. “I rather think you’ll enjoy this, darling,” he purred, “I have _such_ plans for you.” The only response was a faint squeak, but Pine knew she heard him. Gently pulling her by the hand, he walked over to the bar, ordering something vodka-based from the prettily painted man tending bar. “Полегче с дамской напитком. Она легкая.” The pretty man looked over to Maura and chuckled, blowing her a little kiss.

 “Здесь ангел.” The bartender said, presenting her glass with a flourish, “Это сладкий напиток, и достаточно просто, чтобы помочь вам расслабиться.”

 Taking it and nodding with a smile, Maura replied with one of the 9 phrases she’d managed to learn on the flight over. “Спасибо действительно.” Nodding with another chuckle, his false lashes dropped into a wink as he moved back to his blender.

Lightly tapping his glass to hers, Thomas smiled, a devilish glint in his eye. “To new experiences, darling.” Maura gulped audibly, but smiled and nodded back before finishing half her drink in one swallow. "You're nervous, lovely. But you know I'll take care of you."

 "Yes," she answered, wishing her voice was stronger. The delicious and filthy things Thomas did to her in the privacy of their bedroom ('and the living room, bathroom, kitchen, petrol station...') she mentally added were one thing. But a _bondage_ club? Unbidden, memories of her horrible Ecstasy-laced night at the Corporation's whorehouse rose to mind, and Maura wrinkled her nose, trying to dismiss the feelings it brought with it, much like a malignant smell. Taking her hand, Thomas led her around the room. This place was far more rough and industrial-looking than the sleazy glamour of the Silk Slipper. Concrete floors, and various hooks and straps fastened securely into the wall and ceiling. But the clientele was definitely upscale, Maura thought, looking at the expensively-dressed men and women, flaunting their bodies while hiding their faces behind their masks. Straightening hers self-consciously, she allowed herself to be drawn near to one couple enjoying a suspension scene. Tilting her head and trying to figure out the elaborate rope knotting, Maura shivered as Pine's hand slid down to her stomach, feeling the heat of his wide palm over the thin silk of her dress.

 "Doesn't that look beautiful?" He purred into her ear, enjoying his Pet's little shiver. The man was bouncing his writhing partner off his cock, her legs spread wide as he swung her back and forth in her complicated harness. Pulling her against his hard chest, Thomas continued whispering to her, enjoying the goosebumps that spread down Maura's neck. “His cock pounding into her, her body helpless to do anything but receive him. A bit more elaborate than you and I play, but delicious. Hmmm?” He was Satan, she thought helplessly, trying to concentrate as his nose slid down the soft skin of her neck, scenting her. “Does this interest you, Pet?”

 “Tonight?” Maura gasped.

 Breaking out into laughter, Thomas shook his head. “No, darling. This is a little...extreme for a public place. I would never display you.” A shadow fell over his face briefly, and she knew he was thinking of her miserable stint as a stripper. “But there are so...so...many other delightful things to show you.” Pulling her away from the screaming finish of the bound woman, Pine moved to the cages as Maura took a last peek behind her.

 It was such a surreal night, Maura thought, taking another healthy gulp of her drink. She’d been introduced to boundless new sexual adventures from the ceaseless imagination of her Sir. But always in private, perhaps with a slight danger of being caught spicing their finish. “But, this!” She thought, ‘so many people, openly pleasuring each other, drawing into private rooms, strapping a sub onto a St. Andrew’s Cross, or setting her back ablaze- Wait. What?” Stopping dead still, her wide green eyes took in the utterly  motionless form of the woman being coated with fire from the hands of her Dom, eyes closed with a look of bliss.

 Shrewdly eyeing Maura’s astonishment, Thomas pulled her closer, murmuring into her ear again. “Fire play, darling. It requires utter trust- the willingness to force down your body’s instinctive resistance to flame.” Her eyes were still glued on the couple, the man’s skilled hand wiping flames over his Sub’s breasts, then extinguishing it rapidly. She was pulled out of her astonishment as Thomas took her hand firmly, leading her over to the area. As a decorative nod to the purpose it fulfilled, the area was designed to look like a fire pit, with rough platforms and a large, open fire at the center. To the girl’s anxiety, the only attention to safety seemed to be a bucket of water by each station. Aside from the couple already in play, the other platforms were empty, though there was a large crowd watching the action. She began digging in her high heels when she realized Thomas was taking her to one of the other platforms.

 “S-Sir?” Maura said anxiously, “this is so…” she swallowed, looking up into his azure eyes. She knew he was wildly aroused, she knew all the signs. But she was terrified. _Fire?_ On her naked body? Wait, _naked?_ Oh, God... 

Suddenly, his warm hand was on her neck, smoothly sliding those rough fingers over her pulse and centering Maura again. “Do you trust me, love?” His dark head was bent close to hers, azure gaze searching her face.

She didn’t hesitate, the words on her lips before Maura could even think them. “Yes. Of course.”

Tenderness warred with lust as Thomas bent to kiss her, roughly placing his mouth against hers, hard and already pushing her lips apart to slide his tongue inside her mouth. His hands slid down, grasping her ass greedily, squeezing her skin and pushing her closer to him. Moving against her until Maura was panting, pleasantly loose-limbed, Pine pulled back, looking down at her again. “Then come play, little girl.”

Standing in front of the rough and rather sinister-looking platform, the girl ran her suddenly sweaty palms down the silk of her dress. Her head was lowered, hiding behind his broad shoulders from the eager spectators. “You’re mine,” Thomas hissed, “I won’t show you off like that.” Maura nodded, but she knew perfectly well that she needed to remove her dress. She _knew_ that Thomas knew that- and she could feel his intense desire to play with her suddenly waver.

Moving to a screen just behind the platform, Maura lowered her head, smiling demurely at Pine. “Will you unzip me, Sir? With you blocking me, I can lay down for you without anyone seeing any...intimate bits of me.” When he hesitated, she moved closer, pushing against the erection already tenting those leather pants. “I am yours, Daddy. I know you’ll protect me.”

The darkness cleared from his eyes then, Thomas catching her in another hard kiss. “My beautiful, perfect Pet. You honor me.” Angling his body to block her from sight, he took off his long leather coat as Maura turned to him, showing her back. Her head dropped against his shoulder, sighing as he pulled down her zipper, inch by careful inch. 

Slipping gracefully onto the platform face down, Maura straightened herself, taking deep breaths and trying to calm her racing heart. She knew by the way his big body was angled, that Thomas was blocking her ass- clad in a skimpy g-string- from the audience. His hands came up to her hair, carefully coiling it and piling it on top of her head. She whimpered a little, feeling his broad palm run down her spine, gently smoothing over her ass and down her legs. She could hear him dipping something in the water, and the rustle of a glove, the process repeated twice more, and then she smelled the acrid scent of rubbing alcohol. Maura felt the heat of a candle near her as Thomas leaned down to kiss her neck, gently nipping at the taut tendon there, betraying her anxiety. “Do you trust me, babygirl?” She knew he was giving her once last chance to back out, but Maura turned her head, giving him a smile that was part shaky, part sultry. Kissing the hand not wearing the gloves, she forced herself to be still. There was a small “woosh!” as the candle set the glove on Thomas’ hand aflame. And Maura froze as he ran it up her spine, just as he’d done with his bare hand. She could feel the heat of the fire, feel the very pores on her skin slam shut in anxiety. But as he ran the fiery glove over the globes of her bottom, the feverish bite on her skin felt strangely arousing, and Maura’s hips moved slightly on their own accord as the glove passed by. Gently parting her legs, Thomas chuckled as her knees tried to slam shut on their own, and a brisk slap on the thin skin of her inner thigh made her spread them back open.

‘I trust him...I TRUST hi- ah!’ Maura’s frantic inner monologue was cut short as the glove was re-lit and swooped it’s way up her slim calf and over the delicate skin leading to her pelvis. She knew it would appear a disobedience if she yelped, so the girl bit her lower lip hard, trying to force her sputtering nerve endings from trying to twitch away from the sweep of the glove. This pass with Thomas’ blazing hand hurt- not terribly, but enough to feel a bite. His erection, still trapped behind those taut leather pants, pressed into her hip as the blaze lingered just over her pussy, then vanished. Maura sagged in relief, hearing the light applause from those watching, and several comments in Russian that she suspected she was just as happy not understanding.

When Pine returned, he put his hand just under the crease of her buttock and squeezed. “I don’t think you have ever looked more beautiful, my sweet, perfect slut. The light of the flame on you makes you utterly incandescent.” He kissed her appreciatively as his hands moved to her hips. Not understanding, Maura moved as if to rise, and he shook his head. His eyes glowed with an utterly diabolical light as Thomas grinned. “Oh, we’re not done, Pet. Roll over onto your back.” He started chuckling as her eyes widened, but she slowly did as he asked, trying to arrange suddenly shaky arms and legs to stretch over the platform, looking more like some pagan sacrifice. Watching as he shed the gloves, Maura watched as he picked up a thick piece of gauze and applied the accelerant to the fabric. A thin, high-pitched shriek nearly left her lips as Thomas gracefully swiped a long streak of the liquid down her thigh, instantly touching the candle to it. More moans and applause rose from the crowd as the blue flame leaped from her smooth skin and died down almost instantly with a swipe of his hand. This way definitely left more of a sting with the heat, but Maura was strangely fascinated with the glow that moved over her bare skin. Running a longer streak down the long length of her other leg, the flame touched again.

“Ah!” It was more of a whisper, but Thomas heard it. Looking into her eyes as he paused, she knew he was waiting for the word. Shaking her head, Maura managed to moan, “No...keep- keep going…”

The feel of his fiery palm on her sensitive belly had Maura clenching every muscle, and again as he moved her hands above her head and stroked the thin, delicate skin on the inside of her arms with the alcohol and then the flame of the candle. The long, rough sweeps of his hand snuffed the flame almost instantly, allowing just enough time for her to gasp. And then she felt the cold swish of the wet cotton against her left breast, and Maura’s eyes shot wide open, gazing fearfully at Thomas. His glowing eyes didn’t reassure her much- he was wildly aroused, and she knew the purrs and applause from the audience was only spurring him on. Her back arched involuntarily as the bluish blaze rose from the soft skin of her breast- then the rough palm from her Sir rubbing her nipple and taking the burn away. He did the same to the other breast, and Maura’s head lolled bonelessly, her eyes closed and mouth open in a silent moan as he played with her breasts, her nipples hard and pressing against his hand, the soft skin of her belly and briefly- along the inside of her thighs- just where they met her pussy. One heated bite blurred into the next blazing sting- her entire body feeling alight as Thomas gently stroked her breasts with fire once more. When he finally stepped back, the crowd broke into feverish applause, and suddenly all the platforms were occupied. Politely shrugging off none-too subtle requests for “assistance,” Thomas quickly covered Maura in her light silk dress, helping her to her feet. The thick, tell-tale bulge of his erection caught many appreciative glances as he quickly ushered her back to the little room where they’d left their belongings. By the time he was unlocking the door, Maura was already placing biting kisses up and down Pine’s neck. He managed to slam the door shut before reaching under the small skirt of the dress and ripping the thong undies from his Pet, yanking down his zipper and freeing his cock in the same moment. Linking one arm under her thigh, then other around her opposite, Thomas lightly lifted Maura into the air, balancing her carefully so none of her reddened skin touched anything.

“Oh! Oh, God! You’re _thick_ tonight-” her blissful moan was cut off abruptly as he impaled her on his cock, bouncing her up and down, pushing harder on the downstroke to slide all the way to the end of Maura’s channel, the wide head of his shaft pushing insistently against her, wanting to dig in deeper, burrow further into his gasping girl. She knew Thomas was strong- his arms were lean, but steely with muscle- yet the ease with which he was bouncing her up and down, as if she weighed nothing was wildly, painfully arousing. Even though the sting of his cock shoving deeper with each stroke definitely made itself known, Maura was shocked to feel wetness slide over her thighs, making his dick shiny and adding to the sting as his narrow hips slapped against her wet pussy. To her shock, her orgasm was suddenly right on top of her and Maura stiffened, gasping as she helplessly clamped down on Thomas’s cock. He groaned, dark head dropping to her shoulder for a moment as he was trapped inside her desperate spasms. When the pulsing slowed, he began thrusting inside her again, rubbing her clit against his wiry pubic hair, enjoying his girl’s little whimper as her thighs tightened around his hips.

“Do you think that’s the only time you’ll come tonight, darling? Oh, no. You will not be allowed to rest until-” Pine’s murky threats stopped as he adjusted her higher on his arms and began thrusting faster than before. “No, lovely,” he continued, licking a stripe over one reddened collarbone, and then the other, “I won’t let you down from my arms or off my cock until you’ve come twice again.” Arching his hips sharply, the slide of his shaft changed inside her, almost scraping Maura’s sensitive, swollen walls as the hard press of him kept firing off every nerve ending in her pussy. “Come, my singed little quim, I feel those red-hot thighs against me. Work them!” It was almost as if Thomas startled her into an orgasm, because Maura shrieked and did as he ordered, trembling and clutching at his shoulders to hold herself upright. Without giving her a moment to recover, he gave her a savage grin as his thrusts became faster, heartlessly rough inside her as his hips snapped back and forth. “One more, my dirty angel. One more and I’ll let you rest.” It was turning into a blur for Maura- that confusing intersection of pain and  arousal that only Thomas could make her feel, something so intense that at any other time she would refuse to endure such a thing. But when her Sir was inside her- fucking her in this harsh, greedy way- all she could do was link her hands behind his neck and moan, arching and keening against him in a mindless, obedient way. And when an especially savage bounce sent him impossibly, cruelly far inside her, something broke in Maura and she threw back her head and wailed her joy, shaking as if her insides had been set on fire this time- the burn and the sting just as arousing. Feeling her give in to him, Thomas groaned, teeth clenched as he spurted inside her, shoving his cock up over and over, trying to flood her inside. Yelping as they fell back against the wall, Maura breathlessly giggled as he pressed his shaking knees against the stucco, trying to hold them upright.

When they finally felt they could stand upright without falling over, Thomas carefully pulled himself from Maura, smiling in an annoying male way as his come dripped from her and slicked over her thighs. They tidied each other between kisses and careful strokes over sore skin, and then dressed. "You bared yourself for me..." he said in an odd voice. "You've felt so overexposed these last weeks, and yet..."

Maura stood on tiptoe, looking deeply into his eyes. "It was me giving my body back to you," she said carefully, "I feel...protected again, I guess. No longer exposed. I'm for you- you only Thomas."

A guttural grunt was the only thing he could manage before taking her mouth into another savage kiss, one that gradually softened until he finally kissed her forehead. "My beautiful, perfect Maura-girl."

Resting her head on Thomas’s shoulder after he put her into their car, Maura sighed, “What time is it? I can’t even imagine…” her question was cut off by a huge yawn, and he laughed.

“Not late, really, here in St. Petersburg time. But we must be up early. The Goblin Market opens at the most curious hours.”

Maura looked up, brow wrinkled, “The Goblin Market? What an odd name.”

Thomas shrugged and kissed her again. “As long as that vendor has the information we need, it can be bloody Diagon Alley for all I care.  Rest, darling, we’ll be back at the L'Europe soon.”

Nodding gratefully, she closed her eyes and was almost instantly asleep, leaving Thomas to look out the foggy car window with a strange smile gracing his handsome face.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, if you'd like to see a lovely video regarding fire play that Miss Tardis recommended, it's here: https://youtu.be/yhGHWavROrA


	9. You Are SO Going To Hel - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maura and Thomas meet two mysterious, fascinating allies in their search for Siobahn and the stolen children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, THIS is the long-awaited (by me, at least) cross-over between myself and Misreall. This chapter is the SECOND half of chapter seven you can find on her story, "The Road To Hel Is Paved With Misunderstandings." It's found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8591122 So, to recap- you'll start the chapter on her story, then end with it on mine.
> 
> For new readers who love Misreall, please know I'm completely aware that her work is vastly superior to mine. But we worked very hard on this chapter together, and I hope you'll enjoy it.
> 
> Oh, and not to gloat or anything, but all the smut- even all the really good stuff misreall wrote- is on MY half of the chapter!
> 
> Obviously, this chapter will make more sense if you've read her beautiful stories about Loki and Nora, so it's never too late to dive in. Kick off your boots and settle in after starting with her chapter seven in "The Road To Hel..."

 

 

 

Nora watched Loki leave with Thomas and Maura.  At least Maura had the decency to look ashamed at leaving her behind, and the sight of her cousin affixing the questionable earmuffs over her head gave Nora a small surge of satisfaction.  Thomas was clearly sided with Loki, which was all the more galling, since it would probably be the only thing those two would ever agree about.

Well, and where your trousers should break.  And maybe on how much shirt cuff to show on a standard suit.

After giving them a few minutes to get ahead of her Nora grabbed her jacket, headed for the door, and found herself bouncing off an invisible barrier, landing with what was probably a bruise-giving thud.

“You asshole! What if there’s a fire?” she yelled at the doorway.

Charles cleared his throat, “I am sure Master Loki has set the spell of dissolve if you were in any danger, miss.”

Nora picked herself up, “I should start a fire, then.”  Charles blanched, “I’m kidding.”  Maybe.

Dropping back onto the couch, Nora brooded for a few minutes and then pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts.   Nothing.  Nothing.  No, as much as she wanted to call Thor and have him drop the hammer on Loki right now she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.  

Even though he deserved it.

Then a name came up that made her smile.  She hit the dial and prayed that she would pick up, and maybe a little afraid she would.  Even after her exposure to Loki’s world Baba Yaga made her nervous.

“Anno?”

“B.Y., it’s Nora from Mr. Rasmussen’s office! I was hoping….”

Fifteen minutes and one (disturbing) deal later there was a loud knock on the suite door.  Charles answered and standing there was a frighteningly tall and thin old man with long white hair and matching beard, dressed in a vintage tuxedo with a shawl collar.

"May I help you, sir?”

His skeletal leer was apparently disturbing to even the unflappable butler.  Nora pulled on her coat, holding her gloves under her chin, “Charles this is Koschei, an old friend of the boss’s, he’s here to abduct me.”

The lich took a step into the room and then hefted Nora up, tossing her over his shoulder, “Apologies, pretty girl, but the formalities must be observed, even in an _abduction."_ His voice was as decrepit as his body, his heavy accent both musical and sneering.

“Got it,” Nora gasped out, a bony shoulder deep in her diaphragm, and Koschei turned on his heel, holding a hand out towards the mystical barrier, speaking with a rattling laugh.

“Я беру свою женщину, Морозко, и вы не можете остановить ничего.”

Nora stayed on his shoulder, grunting and collecting bruise after bruise on her stomach, all the way down in the elevator, and then out the door of the hotel, which appeared to have another ward on it.  No one tried to stop them, or even looked at them twice.  She didn’t know if they couldn’t be seen, or if everyone took one look at her kidnapper and just didn’t _want_ to see them.

Outside a beautiful 1930s roadster, painted in a color that could only be called pale, waited. Koschei tossed her in, adding a few more bruises to what was now an impressive collection.  As he pulled into traffic he turned and gave her a surprisingly nice smile, “Next time, tell Loki to bring you to Bunyan. My Marya would like you.”

 

Maura blinked to refocus her eyes as they entered the darkened nightclub. It was standard Eastern European glitz- harsh neon, concrete walls and a leather-clad dj. “They still have dancers in cages!” Maura marveled, looking around. And there, on the “VIP” floor, their quarry sat with the requisite number of young ladies in mere scraps of cloth and spandex. She knew by his stiff posture that Thomas had already picked out the four exit options and the fact that every bouncer seemed to be examining them with some interest. Maura was surprised to note that Loki was lounging gracefully against the bar. “I  somehow thought you’d to attempt to take point, Magnus,” she not-quite shouted over the volume of aggressive dubstep blasting through the crowd.

Loki nodded at Thomas, still sizing up the room with that cold, blue gaze. “Daddy’s game, darling. Daddy’s rules. I am merely here as assistance.” He almost smiled malevolently to see the look of horrified embarrassment on Maura’s pretty face. He knew he was taking out his distress over the betrayed expression on Nora’s face on her innocent cousin, but this feeling of guilt was extremely unpleasant.

Shutting her mouth with a snap, Maura turned to stride to the closest muscle. ‘Daddy?’ She thought, ‘DADDY? Smug Asgardian God of caviar and- and- he thinks he knows everything about me?’ Fixing the suspicious lump of muscle and tight shirt with her sweetest smile, Maura purred, “Hello, handsome. We-” she went ahead and used the plural, knowing Thomas would have already been across the room and right behind her as she opened her mouth. “-we’re here to see Mr. Ivanov.”

“Зачем?” The behemoth grunted.

Thomas took over, “У нас есть подарок для г-на Иванова, что-то, что он искал в течение некоторого времени.” He held up his leather briefcase, arching a brow at the man. Beady eyes glared at him, then looked over Thomas’s shoulder at Loki, who managed to look elegant and vaguely non-threatening. Thomas growled low in his throat when the bouncer delivered his message and the portly Russian looked at them briefly. Rising, he left his vinyl throne and his youthful posse to disappear through a doorway.

“Is he running?” Maura spoke into his ear, trying to speak as quietly as she could over the throbbing harmonics from the dj. Loki shook his head, tapping her shoulder to look up, where she could faintly make out movement behind the glass. Thomas followed the gesture and nodded. One of the lumps of muscle returned, growling to have them follow him. Maura clenched her fists as they walked through the crowd, women were reaching out to touch Thomas and Loki, running their hands over a shoulder, or touching their hair. She was irritated because Thomas was _hers._ And offended on behalf of Nora, though she suspected her cousin would simply laugh at the whole drunken attempts at seduction. Once up the stairs, two men reached out, intent on frisking them. Then the tables turned, with Thomas sending out his most threatening vibe as the meaty paws of one reached for Maura.

“Darling,” he said clearly, “just take off your coat and show the nice mouth breather that your lovely dress couldn’t hide a paper clip.” Smiling sweetly, Maura did as he asked. The man grunted and jerked his head to pass. Thomas was given the pat-down, though not the vigorous one she suspected had been ordered. There was something about Thomas’s menacing smile that made the most steroided of creatures unwilling to push him. As for Loki- Maura couldn’t see through the flashing lights, but it seemed as if he simply...drifted through.

The welcome inside the plush office was no warmer.

“What do you want?” Ivanov stated in the Queen’s English. His suit was just as expensive as the ones sported by Thomas and Loki, though the effects of hard living spoiled the lines a bit.

“Mr. Ivanov,” Thomas was suddenly taller with authority, nodding briefly to the man in an “we’re all equals here” sort of way. “We’re here for your assistance, and to offer you a gift.”

The Russian was not impressed. “What do you require? Such well-presented English types as yourself don’t tend to venture this far when slumming St. Petersburg.”

Maura was biting the inside of her cheek, the soothing copper tang keeping her from slicing a stiff hand into the man’s throat, making him choke on his own blood. Siobhan- all those children- they were _this_ close. She could _feel_ it.

Thomas chuckled in that “I graduated from Cambridge and I’ve killed a lot of people way,” still smiling pleasantly. “We’re seeking your skills in...travel. Destinations, specifically, for the Paukove Mreže syndicate.”

Ivanof stared at them for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. “You must be joking. You’re not stupid, so you must have a very awkward sense of humor.”

Maura was secretly amazed that Loki/Magnus hadn’t spoken a word and hoping just a bit that he could pull some demigod trick to end this nonsense. “Not at all, Mr. Ivanov. We know that despite your professional dealings with the Burićs family, they’re a bit of a thorn in your side. If you can sell us the information we need, your hands are clean and they’ll not trouble you again.” The Russian’s eyes were black coals, burning in that florid face as he glanced at her angrily.

“Of course, little girl. And when you can’t make sure they,” and his hands came up in mocking quotation gestures, “don’t trouble me again, I’m in the middle of a war with the Burićs. Did you hear of their last travel agent?”

“No…” admitted Maura, bracing her feet as their unwilling host thrust his cell at her, jabbing his finger at the image on his phone. “Oh...yes, that would definitely make you think twice.”

“I assure you,” Thomas said with a slightly clenched jaw, “the Burićs will _not_ be bothering you again. Our approach is extremely...thorough.”

Ivanov ignored him, gesturing irritably to Loki. “And this one. He just stands there, _staring_. Is he supposed to be the- how do you say it? The bad cop?” Maura closed her eyes, praying that this wouldn’t be the moment Loki decided to get involved. She suspected the Asgardian’s approach would be a bit more “scorched earth” than was necessary.

Thomas and Loki did a complicated motion where both seemed to step forward at the same time, towering over their seated host. Maura could hear the fabric shift as hands went into concealed gun holsters all across the room.

Then she felt the unmistakable sensation of classic Ruger Standard press though her hair and against the base of her skull.  Maura cursed herself.  She had let herself get rustier than she thought.

Loki’s eyes narrowed.  Apparently even with his gifts he was not close enough to do her any good, which clearly angered him.  As did having to raise his hands and play at being vulnerable.

Thomas was simply, unnaturally still, a look on his face that even Maura found unrecognisable.

Ivanov nodded to his apparent second in command, while standing and adjusting his suit coat, “Подождите, пока не начнется следующая песня. Она будет охватывать выстрелы.”

Maura’s Russian wasn’t good enough to translate the whole sentence, but she knew that they were fucked.  

It was least some comfort to know that Nora was-

“Damn, sorry I’m late. Your door guy is kind of a rude, he said I wasn’t wearing good enough shoes or something.”  

-right here.

Maura was either imagining things, or the temperature in the room was starting to drop.

 

Nora had been afraid before.  The Battle of New York, that was scary.  The fire at CDV was too.  The time her tubby not-quite-boyfriend had turned into the God of Sex and Poor Life Choices, that had been a bad one.

But none of them were quite as scary as this.  Her dangerous but sweet new cousin was about to die.  And her handsome, villian of a lover was going to lose his mind.  He’d probably die, too.  Maybe.  Nora was almost certainly going to die herself.  The number of guns that were aimed at her as soon as she entered the room pretty much ensured that.

Or she thought so.  She didn’t know anything about guns, other than she thought they were bad.  And maybe cool, if she was being honest.  She couldn’t help it.

But what really scared her was Loki.  

Nora knew that if anything happened to her he was going to kill a lot of people.  He was going to kill everyone in this room who dared to be alive if she wasn’t.  And then he was probably going to kill everyone else in the building, because he wouldn’t be able to help himself.  Wouldn’t want to help himself.

And the killing wouldn’t end until Loki was either dead himself at his brother’s unwilling hand, or trapped on the Isle of Silence with his own wretched madness as his only companion.

So all of that was pretty scary.

Nora gave her best placating-the-angry-client smile and raised her hands, “Not armed. I know I’m an American, but, really, no guns.”

Ivanov glared, “How did you get in here?”

The guard that had walked her from the door looked abashed, “I am sorry, sir, but she told me that she was with them, and then she said a bunch of other stuff and by the time she stopped talking and walking we were already here.  I don’t know what happened.”

Nora gave Loki a look, hoping he would snort or smirk.

Nothing. Nothing and faintly red eyes. That was a very bad sign.

Nora had grown up in nightclubs, bars, and cabarets, many of which had been owned by made guys, or at least by those that had connections to them. Usually the types who owned legal businesses all had a few things in common. They all dressed very well, if a little too loudly, most of them were frustrated musicians or performers of some kind, and most of them liked to think of themselves as being legitimate businessmen at heart.

“Can I sit? I had kind of rough trip over here,” she asked. She hadn’t raised her hands and was do her best to act as if this were nothing but a normal, unarmed meeting.

God her ribs ached. Of course her bruised behind was not going to like that hard chair, either, but her knees were just a tiny bit weak at the moment.

Nora took a seat next to Maura without waiting for the boss’s answer, causing a lot of extra tension and nearly giving Thomas an aneurysm it appeared. Maura probably, too, but she couldn’t see her face, though her cousin’s chilly hand slipped in to hers, for just a moment and a soft squeeze.

Loki was just still.  

It was really cold.  Poor Maura in that little dress.

Ivanov sat back down, staring at her in a combination of confusion and annoyance.  Nora gave him her ‘my boss will hate this but I am going to tell you the truth’ look, “You just don’t look like the type who would-  ah, never mind, I guess I’m wrong.”

“About what?” Ivanov asked, cocking his head, interested in spite of himself.  He was one of those Master of the Universe types who kept such a tight leash on his surrounding that he was almost bored with the orderliness of it all.

“You just don’t seem like the kind of guy that would - can I have one of those?” she gestured to a pack of cigarettes.  

There is no one in this room but the two of us, Nora though.  No new cousin.  No Thomas-Lucifer.  No men with guns.  No Loki.  Just me and the angry client.

Ivanov nodded, now completely flummoxed, and she slowly took an Insignia from the black pack, sliding it behind her ear.  “Thanks.  I’ve always wanted to burn one of these.”  He snorted.

“What I was saying is you don’t seem like the kind of guy who would do business with child rapists. That’s all.”

The stillness in the room actually got stiller.  If that was possibly a thing.

“What?” Ivanov’s voice was a faint roar, “What is this child rapists?”

“The what-are-they-called, the Burićs. The child rapists. Well, they supply child rapists, and I am guessing they rape children too, but-”

“They are-” Ivanov started.

Nora talked over him, “They are kidnappers of children. Children from all over the world, little ones, slightly older ones, babies, because why not? Children. Who they are planning to sell to visitors to their little resorts so they can be raped and probably tortured, and I am pretty sure eventually killed. Lots of little children in little graves. Or maybe pits. And you’re helping them. And killing us, when we, well they,” she pointed to Thomas and Maura, but slowly, “are trying to stop them. I guess I was wrong and you are that sort of guy, the sort of guy who is ok with children being raped. And I’m surprised because…

“It’s just, well, you kind of look like a dad.”

She took the cigarette from behind her ear and slowly lit it with the gold lighter that sat on the pack while a flurry of angry sounding Russian flew between Ivanov and his second in command.  A number of mobile devices were pulled out and files were being accessed.

Nora murmured to Maura out of the side of her mouth, “I would wait for a few minutes and then mention your friend’s niece.  And the comic book. God, I hope it didn’t get bent.”

The negotiations went more smoothly from that point on.  

Mostly. There were a few tense moments and at one point Ivanov had to call maintenance at one point to check the furnace.  The whole club was freezing.  

 

When they finally made it back out into the black, frozen night, Nora took a few steps towards the waiting car and then bolted to the side of the building.  Loki was just barely behind her, seething, ready to rip into her.  

How dare she care so little for her life?  

But when he caught up with her, the others close behind him, he found her leaning with one arm against the alley wall of the club, heaving violently.  Loki took a step towards her, but she lifted her head and glared at him, “Don’t. Don’t you think about touching me!”

Loki froze, astounded.  She was angry with him?  Was she mad?  He crossed his arms, scowling down at her, “I wouldn’t dream of it, treasure. You reek of cigarettes and sick.”

Maura made an outraged sound, and hustled past him to put an arm around Nora and help her back to the car.  Loki could feel Thomas’s icy blue eyes boring into him and it was so very, very tempting to turn and do something about that insult…

Instead he took several long strides and took Nora from Maura’s helpful grasp, and gently lifted her into his arms, nuzzling against her cheek, “You were magnificent, treasure. And I am, indeed, a dick.”

Nora nodded, her eyes closed, “Yes you are. But don’t worry, you’re going to pay for it. Unfortunately so am I.”

“What-”

“Later.” She muttered against his chest.

 

Thomas was standing in front of the magnificent windows lining the sitting room of the “James Bond” suite as Maura came out of the sumptuous marble bathroom. She’d never had a shower with the statues of three Greek Gods staring down at her before. Smothering a giggle, she appreciated the sight of his beautifully sculpted body, brazenly bare and uncaring of being seen. “If I had an ass that perfect,” she teased, “I suppose I’d be showing it off as well.”

He turned to her, eyes darkening as he looked up and down her wet body. “The towel,” he said, “it detracts from the perfection of this work of art.”

Maura flushed pink, but she dropped the towel. “Now, I’m a work of art?” She smiled shyly, “High praise in the midst of some of the most magnificent treasures in Russia.”

Thomas had those huge hands of his running up her neck and cupping her cheeks before she’d finished her sentence. “You are da Vinci,” he spoke in a husky tone she’d never heard before. “Your body is Michelangelo, your voice, Vivaldi.” His mouth pressed down on her gaping one, kissing her luxuriously. “Your heart, Johannes Sebastian Bach…” His long arms reached around Maura’s thighs, grasping her and lifting her higher, until her hands rested on those broad shoulders for balance as Thomas smiled up at her, tenderly moving from side to side. Softly kissing one breast and then the other, he crooned, “these exquisite breasts, Donatello. And this heart-” he suddenly buried his dark head in her bosom. Maura’s hands clenched, moving up to slide softly through his hair, “-this heart, darling. I knew for a moment tonight that this heart I love could stop beating. Because I didn’t plan enough- prepare well enough for that Russian bastard.”

Wrapping her legs around his lean waist, the girl tenderly kissed his closed eyes, his high cheekbones and then his mouth, overwhelmed at this uncharacteristic eloquence from Thomas. “Still thinking that you must move time and space to protect me. Knowing all the while that I feel the same about you.” Those blue eyes shot open and she knew he was about to protest. Kissing the words from his mouth, Maura whispered, “The truth is, we’ll never know how long we have. But there will _never_ be a moment-” she kissed him fiercely as his gaze stayed on hers, “-never an _instant_ that I will regret spending with you.”

It had never been this way before, Maura thought hazily as Thomas thrust into her on the elaborate 19th century divan in front of the fireplace, never so intense with relief of a bullet dodged, the feeling that the love that gave her meaning was nearly torn from her grasp. Not even that hellish yacht with the trigger-happy Saudis had affected them this much. Stroking her hands up his back, luxuriating in the feel of the muscles coiling and tensing there as Thomas thrust furiously higher inside her, trying to bury all of him inside that warm place that held him so tightly.

“Are you mine?”

The words came out of nowhere, even Thomas surprised to hear them falling from his lips. His Maura-girl looked up at him, startled.

“You- oh!” She gasped after a particularly hard thrust, “Always, Thomas. I’m always yours!”

“Forever, little one? Always mine?” He couldn’t stop his hands from moving restlessly all over her body, which was still shaking and tensing as he thrust into her, somehow feeling she might disappear if he let off the intensity of fucking her, not touching her enough. Inside her was so blazingly _hot,_  like his cock had entered the sun. The lean muscles of Maura’s thighs squeezed against him, encouraging him deeper when they both knew there was no room left inside her for him. Tightening one arm around her hips, Thomas ran the other hand through the moisture slicking along their thighs, enjoying the feel of her need for him. Running his wet fingers along her lips, he grinned in a most filthy way as he kissed her, spearing his tongue inside her mouth to share their arousal. Shifting Maura higher with another hard thrust, he purred, “You didn’t answer me, sweet girl.”

Her head fell back against the faded brocade of the couch, trying to gather enough brain cells to speak. “Yes- ummm- yes, Daddy! Always, you!” Her hands slipped against his sweating skin, trying to get a grip on Thomas’s back to hold herself steady. But then he stopped for a moment, broad chest heaving, staring down at her with his damnably beautiful Mediterranean blue eyes.

“Thomas.”

Running one hand through his hair, Maura smiled up at him, a little confused and foggy from being fucked so enthusiastically.

“Always you, _Thomas_ ,” he emphasised, “tonight, we are Maura and Thomas. Just...us.” His cock throbbed impatiently inside her, but the pressure of his hips held hers still.

The sweetest, most unguarded smile he’d ever seen crossed those pink lips, and she nodded. “Always, Thomas. The love of my life.”

A strange gasping puff of air left him then, and the brutal former Second in Command of Jaguar Holdings thrust furiously as they came together, moaning and crying out, clutching at each other. Panting into her neck, Thomas managed to whisper, “Then let me give you a baby. I want to try.” Her legs tightened into an uncomfortably intense vise grip, and he heard Maura’s voice, small and uncertain.

“Are you sure, Thomas? Truly certain?” He looked down into those wary green eyes and smiled.

“With all of my heart.” Drifting off to sleep with Thomas still deep inside her, Maura’s last hazy thought was wondering how much it was going to cost to restore the slick-stained 200 year old silk brocade of the divan beneath them.

 

__________________________________________________________________________

 

Loki insisted on carrying her from the car and then through the lobby.  In spite of the late hour there were a few people lounging about, having cocktails, and Nora muttered under her breath, “Yes, I am being carried through the hotel.  Look at me.  Isn’t that interesting?  It’s like a parade and I’m the balloon.”

Nora normally wasn’t much of one for a bath, but she was disgusted with her condition at the moment so she let Loki set her down in the bathroom and didn’t object when he started filling the tub.  “No oil or anything.  I just want a lot of hot water.”  

Then he insisted on undressing her, which wasn’t a surprise.  Loki loved playing lady’s maid to her for some reason and tonight she couldn’t object.  She just didn’t have the energy.  When he unbuttoned her blouse he found the bruises from his undead buddy’s shoulder.  He gently traced his fingers down them, and then knelt and kissed each one.  Nora laced her fingers through his hair and sighed.  

“How did you know that Koschei would be able to break my ward?”  He whispered as he took advantage of his position to unzip her jeans.

“I didn’t. Baba Yaga did. You aren’t the only one who can network, you know.”

He slid the pants down, snagging her panties at the same time and found the bruise on her hip from when she had been tossed into the roadster.  “Oh,” he lay his palm over the mark, not pressing, but warming it, loosening the muscle, “my poor Nora. You have been sorely used tonight.”

She stepped out the pants and he saw the last of the marks when she bent over, wincing, “And these are from where you bounced off of the ward?”

“Yup.”

“How fast were you… never mind,” Loki turned and checked the water in the tub.  Nora quickly stepped in on her own before he could put her in.  She wasn’t helpless, just achy.

She moaned as every part of her that she hadn’t known was seized up loosened all at once.  Maybe baths were ok.  

A half hour later Nora was clean, warm, and wrapped in her favorite of Loki’s robes, the one with the pockets that always seemed to have cookies in them, and was drinking whisky in bed.  Charles had found Redbreast, which meant he really was the greatest valet of all time.

Loki was staring out of the window.  Still quiet.  Quiet for Loki was strange.  “Nora,” he finally said, “you called Baba Yaga?  I know her, I know that she-”

“Please, just come here.”  Nora held out her hand, and he sighed but took her hint that she didn’t want to talk about it yet.

He stretched out along her body, then parted the robe and rolled Nora onto her back.  He was naked too, then, and he moved her, and himself, until as much of him was touching as much of her as possible.  His long legs bracketed hers.  His arms stretched hers above her head, and their fingers were entwined.  His chest pressed against hers, but not too hard, mindful of her bruises.  His cheek on hers.  His breath slanted across her parted lips.

“I should not have locked you in, but I do not promise never to do the same. I will do anything to keep you safe. Anything but leave you. I am too selfish for that.”  Then, Nora was shocked to the core when his lips found the scar behind her ear.  The crescent shaped Award of Participation she had received at the Battle of New York.  Loki always avoided touching it, even when playing with her hair.  The few times he had accidently brushed it he had shuddered with disgust.

Now he kissed it, over and over.

He released one of her hands and stroked down the side of her face, her neck, ran a finger over her nipple, and then cupped between her legs.  Something about his kissing her scar had left Nora wildly aroused, and the second his fingers touched her clit she bucked up against his hand.  She made a keening noise that she didn’t recognise as coming from her, and all she wanted in the world, suddenly, desperately, was to come and come and come.

And then sleep for the rest of the year.  

“I have you, treasure, I will take care of you.”  Loki’s worked two fingers slowly into her, making her reach down and clutch at his hand, trying to push him deeper, trying to make him move faster, “After a battle, the need for release is always greater,” his hardened palm pressed against her clit and circled.  

“Please, I need to come, please, please,” Nora had never begged a lover in her life, but for she didn’t mind starting now, and Loki, rather than smirking like she was afraid he would, kissed her as if he would never see her again and angled his fingers up while thrusting so deeply into her that she gushed and screamed into his mouth and her body bowed.  

When she finally calmed down, shaking and rolling so her face was buried against his chest, Nora cried.

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

“How did you escape?”

“You first.” The cousins giggled in a conspiratorial sort of way, giddily pleased that they’d both managed to slip loose from their overly attentive lovers, who were still radiating anxiety after a night of nearly losing them.

“I think Loki might have put some sort of magic blocking thingy against the bedroom door, but honestly, it was getting out from under his heavy-ass leg where he was pinning me to the mattress that took the longest. It’s like he gained 300 pounds overnight. Which he could do, actually.”

Maura’s brow wrinkled as she handed over the jam her cousin was eyeing. “Then how did you get out?”

Taking a happy bite after slathering her toast with the varenye mix, Nora answered thickly, “Balcony. Just a quick scramble over the railing to the living room one and we’re in business.” Eyeing her cousin’s appalled expression, she answered defensively, “What? I left a note.” Eyeing Maura’s little grin, Nora snorted, “And what super-spy trick did you use to evade Thomas’s clutches? The guy looked like he was going to surgically attach you to his arm after last night.”

“I put a pillow over his head,” Maura admitted. “It’s like he’s a chimp, or something. If it stays dark, the man will stay asleep.” Nearly spitting out her mouthful of toast at the thought of her cousin’s murderous lover thwarted by a pillow, Nora choked it down before managing a wheezy laugh.

“He is going to be _mad,"_ she snorted, “But is it ok for Thomas to be mad?”  Nora fussed with her coffee, and then looked questioningly at her cousin.  Her cousin.  That was going to take some getting used to, but in a good way.

Maura’s pale skin turned rose, and Nora wondered how she could be a spy with such an obvious tell.  Then she guessed Maura was only obvious when it related to Thomas.  “It will be fine that Thomas is angry. And to answer the question that you are trying not to ask, sometimes it’s quite fun when he’s angry. But is it ok for _Loki_ to be mad?” she asked back.

Nora did not blush.  She just laughed again, “It’s utterly fine for Loki to be angry.  I can’t let him get his way when it comes to what I want for myself.  Our relationship is too… unequal.  I can’t let him be the boss of me, it would be bad for both of us.  And he loves being bossy.  C’mon, now, let’s try to have a conversation that passes the Bedchel test and NOT talk about the boys all breakfast.”

Maura told Nora about why she had become an agent, and about the training.  About some of the strange things she had learned to do over the years for the sake of various cover: counted cross-stitch, crossbow construction, making a perfect souffle, curling.  She told her about hacking, and how some days there was nothing more exciting than sitting alone in a room, outwitting a nameless opponent who thought that their new firewall was good enough.  

Nora told Maura about singing with Claire, while she banged out barrelhouse tunes on the upright piano that used to grace their living room.  About riding by the lake when the sun set, and watching Buckingham Fountain’s colored lights.  She told her about dancing in New Orleans with her friends until they were gasping in the wet air.  

Maura told Nora about her sisters, and how desperately she ached to hold them just once. About how it felt to know all about them and yet to share none of it.  Nora told Maura about nursing Claire through the second bout of cancer, the one she didn’t survive, about selling her car, and the piano, and the few pieces of nice jewelry Claire had had just to pay those bills.

Maura started to tell Nora about her parents, but Nora just put her hand on hers and said, “Fuck them. Fuck my parents too. But fuck yours way harder.”

“Yes.”

And then, because it was inevitable, Maura told Nora about Thomas.  About how they met, about how they came to be together. (With some editing. Maura sensed that Nora would probably not be so forgiving about some of the things that Thomas had done and might, if angry enough, sic a very willing Loki on him). She told her about how they were now.  

She did not tell her about the idea of the baby. That was too new, too precious to share with anyone yet.

Nora told Maura about Eddie.  And then about Loki.  She told her about the torc and how that had played out, which astounded Maura with Nora’s foolhardiness.  She told her about the Goblin Markets, and costumes with magic wings and devil’s horns, and about magical assassins, and karaoke.  And rooftop Frost Giant sex.

Finally Nora shrugged, sipping more coffee, “I am jealous of you, you know?”

“Why?  I know we just met but I don’t think there is any question that Loki feels just as strongly about you as Thomas does about me.”

“Oh I know he does. I might doubt everything else about him, but not that. No, I’m jealous because you can together until the end. The best we are going to do is be together until _my_ end. And then who’s going to look after him?”

Now Maura put her hand on Nora’s and they sat in a comfortable silence.

 

“Thomas,” Loki nodded as the bespoke beast of Britain stepped into the elevator he was taking to the lobby.

“Magnus,” Thomas said, crisply.  

They each held a note from their respective lovers.  Maura’s was neatly written on a piece of hotel stationary, Nora’s on a page ripped from an in-flight magazine.  

They rode in silence, and as they crossed the lobby together, Thomas spoke, “I feel that I owe Nora an unpayable debt.  If your... you should ever cause her trouble she should not hesitate to come to me and I will do whatever it takes to help her.”

“Thank you. And if _your_ you should ever place Maura in predicament that her own considerable talents cannot extricate her from, it will please me to assist her in anyway I can.

That offer does not extend to you, of course.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. You may also go fuck yourself.”

“Needless to say. Look, there are the ladies.”

 

“Have you ever been to New Zealand?” Nora and Maura were walking arm in arm through the eye-searingly ornate lobby of the Grand Hotel Europe. “I’m sure they have a goblin market there, though I suspect their features are distinctly Maori.”

Nora looked back to where Thomas and Loki were trailing them, a certain distance between assassin and demigod. So much for bonding over near death experiences. “Not yet.” She forced the cream cheese blintzes she’d had for breakfast back down, which were attempting to make a reappearance at the thought of boarding a plane. And flying. For _eighteen hours._

“It’s beautiful there!” Maura was still trying to make a case for Auckland. “Surfing off our balcony, and…” Her voice drifted off as she realized that, A: her cousin didn’t look like a fan of surfing, and B: she may not be alive after this next stage in the game to play hostess.

They walked in silence for a moment, out the doors of the lobby and into the frigid sunshine of another St. Petersburg morning. Finally, Nora said, “If you promise to not get shot or blown up or anything, I...ugh!...I promise to…” She bent over a bit, putting her hands on her knees and trying not to vomit breakfast onto the pristine red carpet in front of the hotel. Both men were stepping up with some alacrity, and Maura waved them off.

Patting her cousin’s back, she said, “I’ve never been to Chicago. I’d really love to have one of those pork chop sandwiches you told me about. I’ll try to live long enough to eat one with you sitting on the steps of Aunt Claire’s house.”

Standing back up and wiping her sweaty forehead, Nora agreed, “That sounds good. We’ll do that.”

As Thomas was making a show of kissing Nora’s cheek farewell in an infuriatingly solicitous fashion, Maura redirected Loki’s glare back to her. “Are you certain you want all three of the targets we discussed?” He raised a haughty brow, gazing down his nose at her. Refusing to be intimidated, she laughed at him. “I know you could handle all of them, _Magnus_ ,” she teased, “but for Nora’s sake, I don’t want you to do anything that would raise your...profile.”

“It is easily done,” Loki said, “in fact, I’m rather looking forward to it.” The malevolent smile that spread across the handsome Norwegian's face was one Maura recognized as worn by Thomas, upon occasion.

Rising up on her toes, she briefly kissed his cheek, smelling the scent of winter on him. “I know Thomas didn’t say this already, so thank you. Thank you for helping those children and thank you for...for Nora.”

Loki stiffly inclined his head, lips pressed tightly together. Knowing that when Thomas wore this expression, he was attempting to deny an unseemly display of emotion, Maura merely smiled and stepped away. Thomas passed by to take her arm, nodding to Loki.

“We’ll be in contact.” He attempted to steer Maura to the car, but she broke away to run back to Nora, hugging her one more time.

“I’ll see you later,” she said clearly, smiling at her cousin.

Nora nodded, squeezing Maura one last time. “Yes, we will,” she whispered into her ear. “Now, go fuck some shit up.”

 

Boarding their jet, Thomas pulled out Maura’s ratty cashmere throw and put it over her legs. “Are you all right?” His tone was noncommittal, but his expression was tender as he looked at her suspiciously glittering eyes. When she nodded, Thomas moved to speak with the pilot. “Banja Luka, the private airstrip we discussed.” Nodding, the woman left the cabin and Maura could hear the whine of the engines engage.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, Misreall has a gift for stirring up local folkore that gives her stories that lovely, "otherworld" feel. In Russia, Nora is calling upon the infamous Koschei, the Abductor. He's a delightfully sinister creature- you can read more about him here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koschei


	10. And so it begins...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas and Maura prove that in a true competitor's game, there can be two winners. Also, drones, flash grenades, sneaky Nigerians and the saving of children. Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Maura's free run/Parkour scene is inspired by this epic video shot by Elle Magazine, where Tom scales and leaps a six foot wall like it's a child's table. Watch it here: https://youtu.be/x1_7mUDJgYQ

 

While Thomas and Maura both loved to run- doing it together sparked their innate competitiveness and a simple jog through the park always turned into something more. This morning was no exception, and the building adrenaline of knowing that this dark excursion into the Paukove Mreže syndicate’s business of buying and selling human souls was coming to a head, made every movement faster, more aggressive. So when Thomas easily scaled a six-foot wall to move ahead of Maura, she leaped against the brick, shoving off with one strong leg to bounce to the adjoining wall, then leaping over. It was on- their calm excursion through an old city park in Banja Luka escalated into a freerun- Thomas using his height and ridiculously long legs to good advantage to leap from a retaining wall to the roof of a small stone shed, then pushing off a tree trunk to land on the other side of the running path. Eyes narrowed, Maura slid down the guard rail of a steep series of stairs, hopped the concrete base of a statue and over a little stream to gain the lead on her amused- and infuriated- lover. A few more leaps and acrobatics later, the two found themselves shoving the other as they raced down the same small hill, not even really sure where the “finish line” was.

Thomas decided on the spot by pulling Maura against his chest and rolling them both in the grass, the girl still twisting madly to escape his grip. Landing on the mossy ground, Maura rolled on top of his panting body, grinning. “I win,” she jeered triumphantly.

Cobalt eyes narrowed, he quickly rolled her back under him catching her wrists in one firm hand and sliding the other up her tank top to squeeze a breast. _“I_ win, darling.” Finally catching enough breath to laugh, Maura wrapped her legs around his hips and squeezed.

  
“If the logical outcome occurs here, _Sir,”_ she emphasized, “I believe we both win.” Thomas closed his eyes and groaned as she shamelessly rubbed her warm center against his suddenly interested cock. Feeling it begin to harden against her, Maura's breath started coming faster again. There was something about the imminent likelihood of loss- injury or even death- that suddenly threw the moment into sharp focus. 

"Strašno turista!" The deeply offended expressions of two mothers pushing baby carriages made them rise quickly, brushing off grass clippings.

"Oprosti mi, dame. moja žena je tako jako lijepa." Said Thomas, hand to his heart in a courtly guesture. The two women giggled a bit and walked on. Maura smiled, brow creasing a bit, trying to translate his excuse. Something about 'lovely?' He looked back at her, his expression strangely tender. "Let's find a bit more privacy, shall we darling?"

 

It felt like their first time, Maura thought, holding Thomas to her tightly as he kissed and suckled her breasts. Hips arching as he lightly bit her nipple, the girl gasped, fingers sliding into his dark hair. It was longer now, she thought vaguely, enough that his curls would wrap around her fingers as she gripped them, trying to ground herself as the intensity of his mouth on her tender skin increased. The feeling of his mouth and hands on her felt familiar and new at the same time- and Maura closed her eyes, trying to memorize the feel of him- the roughness of his fingertips, the warmth of Thomas's lips.

"So beautiful..." he murmured, stroking the soft skin of her belly and spreading her legs wider. "Open for me, lovely. I want to look at you." She smiled up at his amused face, suddenly shy as his gaze moved over the most intimate parts of her, rumbling his appreciation. Thomas paused suddenly as her strong legs tightened around his hips. Staring down into her suddenly glistening eyes, a sudden, sweet smile changed his expression. "There's nothing to fear. We will always keep each other safe. Now, love- let me make you pregnant with my child- we'll have something more to celebrate when this ugly business is finished, hmm?"

Suddenly overwhelmed by Thomas's faith in their future, Maura arched her back invitingly. "Yes, a beautiful child who looks like his father."

He chuckled, thrusting into her. "With her mother's sea glass green eyes."  

Moaning at an especially hard thrust, Maura added, "And his father's lovely long legs. A keen- oh! God, Thomas! And his- mmm...his father's keen intellect." Strong hands slid under her shoulder blades and he went back on his heels, gathering the girl on his lap and thrusting her up and down. Head lolling back, any semblance of thought left Maura's brain. Thomas was deeper in this position, almost impossibly deep. 

The width of him sliding through her always sent a cramping into her belly, as if he was pushing parts of her aside to make way for him. Over time, she learned to crave it- loved the feeling of being stuffed so full, even though Thomas fucking her with such intensity always balanced her between pleasure and pain, with only the thinnest of barriers to separate one from the other. Groaning as a spasm through Maura’s channel nearly tightened him to a standstill, Thomas slid her swollen clit between two fingers, tugging at it lightly as his other hand pushed on the small of her back, angling himself inside to fill every last bit of room, loving the feel of her hard little pearl rubbing against the line of hair to his cock.

“Taking all of Daddy’s cock like such a good girl,” he purred, rolling his hips as his hand pushed her up and down. “I can feel your greedy clit brushing against my stomach, your juices flowing over my balls, making them slippery…” The two fingers holding her most sensitive bit tightened, pulling her clit sharply and enjoying Maura’s startled yelp. “You’re utterly divine, pet, when you’re so... juicy. All that sweet slick sliding between us. You make such a deliciously filthy sound when I’m fucking you- so wet and silky…”

Maura actually meowed. Like a kitten. He was _killing_ her. Thomas was was going to fuck her dead and she was going to enjoy every second of it. And it would serve him right that he would have to finish this mission alone. Suddenly, the realization of what they were about to face made her tighten her legs around him, rolling the long body of her lover onto his back as she drew up her knees against his chest, rocking back and forth into him as she cupped his face tenderly with both hands, staring into those beautiful Mediterranean blue eyes. Thomas felt the sudden shift in mood and ran his hands up and down her flexing back, guiding her hips into a smoother rhythm. “I love you, my dearest Sir,” she suddenly whispered, kissing him on his chin, each sharp cheekbone, and down his neck.

Those strong arms went around her back, and Thomas held her so tightly that only her hips could move. “My beautiful, courageous darling. How could I not love you?” Their breath became shorter then as his hands slid back to Maura’s hips, pushing and pulling her against him, feeling her wet walls tighten against him, beginning to tremble and ripple against his cock, already swelling harder with his need to come. Pushing down on her hips so her clit would rub against the hairy base of him, Thomas gave her a wicked smile, purring in his most dark and guttural voice. “Come now, lovely. Come with Daddy.” And as his good girl always did, Maura obeyed him, gasping and moaning her release as Thomas growled through his.

“Where are we meeting Mr. Sahnoun?” Maura asked. The two had showered and were getting dressed in tactical gear, moving around each other with the familiar ease of a long-married couple.

Tightening her back shoulder holster, Thomas grimaced. “We won’t. O’Connell is covering him as a bodyguard, along with a couple of other trusted operatives. I couldn’t risk you being recognized. We’ll be the first wave into their main holding house after Sahnoun gives the signal.”

Maura frowned and nodded, shaking her head, “Who could have guessed the kindly Nigerian I met in the Sahara Desert could play such a ruthless crime lord?” 

It was true- while Mr. Sahnoun worked as a camp director for the Corporation’s illegal mining expedition, he’d come to their rescue after Thomas, Maura and O’Connell were nearly murdered by the vicious head of Jaguar Holdings and his psychotic third, Bender. Sahnoun whisked them away to New Zealand and quietly set up a new life for all three of them as they healed from their injuries.

Placing another kiss on her neck as he straightened her collar, Thomas smiled down at her. “That’s why he was the unfortunate soul to have rented out the Silk Slipper on New Year’s Eve, to establish his relationship with the Burićs family. They’re pulling out-” here, Thomas grimaced openly, something Maura had never seen on his usually impassive features. “-pulling out some of the ‘merchandise’ meant for the new South American resort to buy at an exorbitant sum. If all goes well, O’Connell’s niece will be among them and we can storm the building without fear of harming any of the children.”

Smoothing his ruffled black curls, Maura smiled up lovingly. “Genius. Absolute tactical genius. You would have made a wonderful MI-6 agent.” She began laughing when Thomas, the former ruthless head of a crime empire, stared at her, deeply offended by the suggestion.

Pacing back and forth in their rented apartment just across from the Kastel Fortress and it’s huge grounds, Thomas watched Maura’s nimble fingers reattach the signal wires to the three drones about to be set in motion. Looking through a pair of binoculars, he announced, “It’s time. Sahnoun is entering the building. Are the drones ready?”

Maura nodded, re-engaging the battery systems and linking each device with it’s controller. “Yes. The dampening electronic field around each one will disrupt any monitoring systems, and since they’re silent, they’re nearly impossible to spot. Ready?” Handing him one of the controllers, she sent off the first drone, watching it head for it’s position before doing the same with the next two. Opening a new window on her laptop, Maura nodded in satisfaction. “We’re in.” Turning up the volume, they both listened intently as Daddy Burićs greeted Mr. Sahnoun through an interpreter. Maura’s lips twisted cynically. She’d found since meeting the horrible little man that he spoke perfect English. He simply refused to speak it, enjoying the power of using an interpreter instead.

“Where is the stock.” It was Sahnoun’s voice, but the kindly Nigerian sounded brutally cold and indifferent. Maura arched an eyebrow at Thomas. “I must purchase the requisite number and set transport. My event is quite soon.”

The cold tones of Daddy Burićs answered, aided by the oily voice of his interpreter. “They’ve been brought here for your inspection, Mr. Obaje.” The cameras on the drones clicked on simultaneously, close enough to the building now to add a visual. They could see the men gathered around a beautiful antique fireplace and incongruously, a lovely old tea set. Maura’s breath caught as the young women were shoved through the door. They were all clearly drugged, most weaving and barely able to stand, dressed sloppily in lingerie, even the youngest of the captives. “Siobhan!” She gasped it without thinking, instantly recognizing the red hair and ginger freckles of O’Connell’s niece. The teenager looked bad- thinner than her photos, with lank hair and heavy black shadows under her dull eyes. But she looked physically sound, which gave Maura hope that the girl was unharmed.

Thankfully, O’Connell was disguised so well with wig and prosthetics facial makeup that even an alert version of his niece would not have recognized him, but Thomas clenched his fist as he saw his friend give a slight jerk in the direction of Siobhan. “Steady, brother,” he murmured, “steady now.”

Sahnoun was magnificent, indifferently looking over the stolen children and impatiently bidding for them all, looking bored as his “accountant” and the Burićs financial representative settled on the price. While Thomas watched as the human cargo was hustled out into three waiting vans, along with Sahnoun and his people, Maura hurried over to her laptop, reprogramming the drones. Moving into their SUV and heading to a spot outside the grounds of the Fortress, they watched the vans head down the road. Maura waited as Thomas spoke into his cellphone, and when he gave her a curt nod, she hit “enter” on her keyboard.

The sunny day along the Vrbas River was suddenly set on fire as all three drones swooped in through open windows in the old Kastel Fortress and exploded. The detonation was so bright that Thomas and Maura had to turn their heads away to keep from being blinded by the flash, smiling coldly at the screaming within the stronghold.

 


End file.
